


Shatter Me

by azure7539, LauraRose



Series: Take your heart into my hands [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond (Movies) RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Amnesia, Being Lost, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, M/M, MIA - Freeform, Memory Loss, Pain, Post-SPECTRE, Presumed Dead, Psychological Torture, Spoilers for SPECTRE, Survival of the Fittest, Torture, flee, not dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 147,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure7539/pseuds/azure7539, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRose/pseuds/LauraRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting Oberhauser in Morocco, James Bond vanishes off the face of the earth. Nine Eyes comes to fruition, and the world is never the same again.  One year passes and a highly stressed Q braves the plane and takes himself off to Bali for a month to get away from it all, and is startled to see a familiar face. A familiar face who doesn’t recognize him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Azure and I have written together before (And she is the only one who ever made Severus Snape appear sexy) and I have converted her to 00Q. It started as a RP fic, and we are really excited to see where this goes.

Closing his eyes, he leant back into the boat and tilted his head to the sky. It was clear, and warm and the perfect weather for fishing. The water was crystal and the boat rocked him gently, he felt his mind start to drift. He was tired… but then the man who lived by the beach in a house that was paid for him… he was always tired. The locals avoided him, because almost every night they were woken by the screams of a man that no one knew anything about. It was said that even he knew nothing about himself. All anyone knew was a name.

 

James.

 

The man called James had been on the island for almost a year now. He had been dropped off by a private plane and told by the authorities that he was to have this house by the sea… all his needs would be provided. Food. Money. Women. It was all handed to him on a silver platter and on some level, the man called James was happy… even if he knew that he was not.

 

But it was at night when the walls between the conscious and the unconscious came down that he started to dream… faces… people… names. Who was M? The dark haired woman who drowned? And a boy… no… a young man…

 

James jerked in the little boat as he forced his eyes open. What was wrong with him? The sun was giving him a headache, as it often did. He needed pain killers and a cold beer.

 

Shifting his stance, he took up the oars and rowed back to shore. As he got to the white sand, he jumped out and waded in, dragging the mooring line to the stump.

 

“James,” he heard his name being called by the one who owned the string of apartments on the beach. He reached into the boat and pulled out the basket of Snapper that had caught. Holding it against his hip, he carried it up the beach, shielding his eyes.

 

“Wayan,” James greeted the man, but his eyes had strayed past to the man. A funny man, younger and looking very out of place.

 

Wayan grinned, showing James the gap in his teeth.

 

“James, this is William Solomon, who will be staying in apartment number two…Mr. Solomon… This is James… he lives in number one…” He grinned at them both.

 

*

 

The car gave a particularly sharp jolt and woke Q up from his light, hazy sleep. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose from under his glasses and lay his head back against the uncomfortable cushion behind it, squeezing his eyes shut. The seventeen-hour flight from London to Bali, not to mention the one stop he had to make in between those two destinations at Singapore, was taking its toll on him. For a moment there, he had wondered whether it had been a good idea or not, picking Bali of all places. However, he swatted the thought brutally away, not wanting the physical tiredness to squash away his supposed enjoyment for this month long holiday in the tropics.

 

He wanted, no,  needed this time away. After C had launched Nine Eyes, many of the old employees, including the long time field agents, had been taken out of any of the currently operating intelligence-gathering programmes and had been 'normalized' just so they could ease back into society while still backing them up somewhat from behind, as was warranted, from job finding to financial support and psychological therapies.

 

Cases like those were ones he avoided like the plague... because he couldn't help but think of one particular person whenever he saw those retiring agents and imagine how that person would have handled a situation such as this.

 

_ "MIA: Missing in Action—Presumably dead." _

 

_ Dead. _

 

"We're here," the driver of the cab spoke up in his broken English, looking at him expectantly. The bright sunlight from the clear sky outside penetrated the windows and pierced into his eyes. Q could feel his pupils contracting almost painfully.

 

"Thank you," he muttered, hurrying to get out the money he had had exchanged for the Indonesian currency a while back, and paid the man before stepping out of the vehicle and rounded to its trunk in the back to actively retrieve his belonging, which consisted of his knapsack and a single luggage, and headed to the apartment string on the beach that he had rented a place to stay for the next upcoming month.

 

"Welcome, sir!" the man behind the reception greeted him with a wide smile that showed the gap between his teeth, and Q put his luggage down beside his feet on the floor.

 

"Hello," he said. "I'm William Solomon." To be honest, he didn't even know how he had come up with this name in the first place, but at least it had a nice ring to it, he supposed, and filled it out as the alias he wanted written on his 'temporary' passport. "I've booked a room..."

 

"Number two, right, sir?" The man's smile widened a fraction. Q blinked but nodded anyway. This was one of those newly opened apartment strings in the area; not many guests were staying here (as compared to other places) and the prices were relatively cheap, so he reckoned it was normal for them to actually remember the name of the people who were staying here while the list was still relatively short.

 

Or was there another particular reason behind it that he didn't know about?

 

"Yes, yes. Darma!" the man called, and a tan, tall young man rushed out from the back, looking a little flustered. "Take Mr. Solomon's belongings to room number two."

 

"Oh, no. It's—" Q motioned to stop Darma when the other man laughed.

 

"It's all right, sir. Don't worry. He will be careful with your things."

 

It wasn't the risk of Darma breaking his things that he worried about, to be honest, not when he had cushioned his laptop even more securely than he did himself. (Not that he was handing over his knapsack at any rate.) He just generally didn't like people touching his things... he had once known a man who had taken the liberty of taken an entire car for himself before sending it hurtling into a river without authorized permission after all.

 

The thought stopped him in his track, and Q stiffened for a moment there, watching nearly blankly as Darma scurried off with his luggage and a spare key the man behind the reception had pressed into his other free hand.

 

"Don't worry, sir," the man was saying again. "By the time our brief tour is over, your luggage will be safe in your room." Not that he was any more assured, but Q calmed himself down and nodded anyway. "My name is Wayan, by the way." Wayan extended a hand, and Q took it out of polite, common courtesy.

 

"William Solomon," he drawled. "As you already know."

 

Wayan laughed heartily and they began the tour, just as brief as the man had promised. The warm, salty breezes that were blowing in from the cerulean blue sea on their right calmed him as they headed toward to his booked room.

 

"I can guarantee you that this side of the apartment is not crowded at all," Wayan continued on with his introduction. "Nothing to worry about, Mr. Solomon."

 

Q frowned. Why in the blood Hell did this man keep on reassuring him over nothing like this?

 

"There is, however, one other guest staying in room number one." The man's voice grew slower at this, giving off an impression as though he was hesitant about something, and this made Q raise an eyebrow. "But he's a nice chap when you get to know him."

 

Why was there a but at the start of that statement?

 

"Oh? What—"

 

"There he is," Wayan exclaimed suddenly, the man's eyes drifted over to the beach where a figure securing his boat was standing. The sea was glittering so brightly under the sun that Q was having trouble actually seeing anything clearly, even though squinted eye, and his glasses weren't helping—they were actually making said figure, or the supposedly "nice chap" in room number one, seem rather familiar. "Come on, Mr. Solomon, this is a good opportunity as any. I'll go ahead and introduce you two."

 

Just as Q was about to decline the offer (the man was too extroverted for his own good to be honest), seeing as he saw no used in befriending another tourist whom he knew nothing about and would probably never meet again after this, he heard Wayan call out a name that froze him still: "James."

 

James?

 

His head snapped up, vision clearing almost instantly as it focused on the approaching figure, man, with short blonde hair, receding hairline, and a fit, robust, and muscular body. His skin was tan and somewhat red from being exposed for too long under the sun, most probably; he was holding a fishing basket to his hip, and had a British accent when he spoke, the familiar tone and syllables brushing over Q's skin softly like that of a feather.

 

Q let out a shuddered breath, despite this being the hottest weather he had ever encountered, and stared with wide eyes at the man before him.

 

007.

 

James.

 

"B-Bond?" Q spluttered, too surprised at that moment to actually give a damn about composure, never having expected to see the face of said man looming in front of him for another time in his life.

 

"What?" Wayan chuckled, surprise painting his expression, too, as he looked between them both. "You two know each other?"

 

James realised that he was staring at the young man, who looked completely out of place in the heat of the Indonesian sun. He looked hot and bothered... And he was staring at James.

He called him Bond. Who the heck was Bond? James caught Wayan's eye and shrugged.

 

"Never seen him before in my life," he replied and put a hand to his head. It was pounding.

 

"If you will excuse me... I have fish to gut and sell..." He stepped past them and carried them to the small beach houses. He went to the back step that overlooked the sea. He went inside and came out with a cool beer and began to gut the fish, watching as a pair of lemurs bounced in the trees, although his eyes kept straying to the garden of number two.

 

*

 

Was the heat getting to him? Or was it the strange sort of food that they had served on the plane?

 

Q was asking himself inwardly, but the questions themselves were hardly penetrating, nothing in comparison to the huge, five foot ten problem that was standing there before him, all sweat and sunburned and tan with a fish basket at his hip.

 

What? This couldn't be a hallucination. What sort of hallucination was this anyway?

 

He still had the sense of mind to catch Wayan's question, though, but the answer that came after it nearly knocked the air out of his lungs.

 

_ "Never seen him before in my life." _

 

But that mental blow didn't help him clear his mind. The image of Bond refused to leave... until, of course, the man decided to physically leave himself, carrying Bond's visage along with him. "Fish to gut and sell?" What the Hell...

 

Q wanted, in an either insane or absurd (whichever came first) moment, to reach out and catch that man's hand and stop him in his track. But the way Bond, James, was holding his head and how his brows were furrowed told Q that he probably wasn't in a good mood... and the clothes he was wearing wasn't hiding the muscles and veins that were flexing in his arms.

 

Suddenly, Q's mouth went dry, and it wasn't because of dehydration due to heat, not this time round. "You know him, Mr. Solomon?" It was Wayan, and Q was immediately snapped back to reality as he tore his eyes away from Bond's retreating back.

 

"I... uh..." He licked his lips and shook his head. "I think I... mistook him for someone." Pushing his glasses back up the bride of his nose, Q sniffed. "They look a little similar."  Too similar. "What-What does he do anyway? James?" The name rolled off his lips, the syllable tasting strange yet familiar at the same time on his tongue.

 

"You heard him." Wayan shrugged, talking in a matter-of-fact tone that didn't sit well in Q's stomach. Or, to be more precise, he didn't think anything could feel right anymore in his stomach right then. "Gut and sell fish. Usually in the small, local market nearby. His are really fresh, you know," the man advertised, "freshly caught from the sea every day. Exactly like how you've just seen it."

 

"Oh..." Q breathed, a slight frown to his forehead. "I see." James Bond. 007 of MI6, gutting and selling fish for the market. Just great. Was it really him at all? Or was this just one of those rare cases where two unrelated people just sort of looked too much like one another that he had heard of? But that couldn't be it... his accent, his posture, the shade of his hair and eyes, even down to his name James... This couldn't... it could not be a mistake. It could not possibly be.

 

"Well, enjoy your stay here, Mr. Solomon. Bali is a beautiful island as you can see."

 

Wayan pressed the key into his palm and left with a wave and another grin. It wasn't until he was looking down at the piece of metal in his hold that Q noticed his hand was a bit clammy and shaking somewhat.

 

"You don't say," he muttered, mostly to himself, shoes burrowing into the hot, white sand.

 

-

 

Finally having the chance to actually get out of the scorching sunlight was a blessing, and Q was starting to think that Bali wasn't a good idea after all. Heck, the whole vacation was a screw up since the start with the three-hour delay. He groaned, sitting down onto the bed next to his knapsack, and rubbed his eyes. Q was very much tempted to flip open his laptop and access 007's case file once more, but what was the point?

 

What was the the point when he had gone through it at least a dozen times before already? What was the point when there was no guarantee that this  was actually the man himself? What was the point when James Fucking Bond, bloody 007, still had countless of enemies out there, pronounced dead or otherwise, and would be endangered the moment they heard even an inkling of fact that he still existed on the face of the earth?

 

What was the point when this was supposed to be his freaking holidays, and he had pretty much managed to temporarily drop off the face of the grid at least until toward the end of this 'legal' and authorized month off?

 

God, he wanted to sleep. But if there was one thing that Q knew, it was his own body, and right then, when his mind was literally whirring away with countless of bouncing thoughts that seemed to have neither beginnings nor ends, there was no way he was going to be able to sleep.

 

Sleeping pills might be a good solution right then, only... something was holding him back from reaching for that bottle, something other than the nagging that taking a pill would just make him even worse after waking up from a forcibly induced sleep. Something like that distinct, yet faint, irregularly paced sound of the heel of a glass bottle, most probably a beer, clinking against the floor outside.

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of his luggage, which had been brought here thanks to Darma, and stood up quickly onto his feet, grabbing it and throwing the thing on top of the mattress before unzipping it and taking out a short-sleeved shirt and ankle trousers. For some reason, he needed to change, and he needed to do it quickly.

 

-

 

The sun was still beaming glaringly (not that it could change in two mere minutes) by the time he opened the French windows in the room and stepped outside, breathing in the salty air that swirled into his lungs and curled at the base of his throat.

 

James was still there gutting his fish, the blood of the creatures oozing out from the single gashes that ran along their bellies bright and gleaming under the light. The sight made Q swallow a little, but the precision with which those hands were working, handling the knife was something he could hardly tear his gaze away.

 

Suddenly, he found himself approaching, the sand wriggling its way under his feet and between his toes through the sandals that he had brought along with him on the trip. His best bet was to turn away and pretend as though everything had all been but a mistake (even his action right then seemed like a mistake); that was one of the logical choices. But then, why was he doing this, of all things ( you're not a field agent! Most of them are history already as it is! ), in the first place?

 

Honestly? He didn't know.

 

The eyes of the fish were wide and unblinking in the stillness of death.

 

"Survival of the fittest, isn't it?" he said offhandedly, the words spilling out almost like that time back when he had first introduced himself as 007's new quartermaster by first commenting about The Fighting Temeraire at the National Gallery. "'Life comes from physical survival,' after all," he quoted Rollo May, and smiled faintly at James, not knowing much else to do. "You don't seem like one to lure and gut for a living." Not when it came to actual fish, of course. Q raised an eyebrow, watching for the man's reactions.

 

*

 

The pressure in his skull was pouting by the time that he had body of the fish gutted, clearing out the innards with the flat of his knife, scraping the contents into another bowl which would be washed out. When someone had showed him to how to do this, he took to it right away with no thought. He handled the knife as if he had been gutting fish all his life.  It was the only clue to who he was, a question which just didn’t seem to bother him. Who was he? After a years ago, there was… nothing I his head. The occasional fleeting moment of insight, of memory.

 

Like the face that he had met.

 

William Solomon.

 

Something in him told him that the name was false. He had no idea how he knew that but it was a fact as far as he was concerned, as certain the fact that his beer was fast getting warm in this weather… but he liked the heat. He liked the feel of it on his skin.

 

His head clanged and he paused his motions to press his fingers against the tiny scar that was on the side of his head, and turned as that man approached. He watched him, wary and suddenly tense, and looked down, picking up his beer and taking a mouthful.

 

“It’s a living,” he replied, as he went for the next fish, and glanced at the man. He had changed, he noted. “You’re British?”

Bond still looked just as awful as he had been before sidestepping Q and Wayan and heading inside. Vaguely, he saw the man pressing his fingers to the side of his head as if in pain though the position where those fingers were was a bit off should it be someone attempting to ease, say, a headache. Maybe that wasn't it.

The simple reply threw him a little off, but at the same time, Q wasn't surprised. After the while that he had worked with 007, he had learnt that this was one of his traits, the deadpans and sarcastic, dark humor... which only unnerved him even more to be honest, and Q pushed his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that his fingers were flexing.

 

Not to mention the sudden tension that 'James' seemed to take up to upon spotting his approach.

 

"I suppose it is," he muttered. "But you must be pretty successful with it if just gutting fish alone can afford you a rental house here," Q pressed, the wind blowing again and caressing their hair. He shifted on his feet, despite himself though, seeing as probing wasn't really his forte.

 

"Yeah." He was British, alright. "Aren't you British yourself?"

 

James picked up the warm beer and took a gulp of it. It was warm and week and just did not sit right inside him. He set it down and picked up the fish, sliding the blade under the fin.

 

“I guess I am…” A strange answer to a strange question.

 

“I don’t pay for it,” he replied, slicing down and twisting the blade to open up the stomach cavity. His hands were easy, skilled as he slid two fingers in and scraped out the internal organs. “Don’t ask me who pays for it, I don’t really know…” he set it down and picked up the next one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-writing this RP with Laura, and another work as well, has been nothing short of wonderful. She has a sharp, wonderful sense of humor, and I can't be happier that I manage to have her as a writing partner.

Q's brows furrowed at the answer, but James stopped him from asking any further about it just short by saying that he didn't really know himself. Okay, even though he wasn't a field agent, this still didn't sit well with him.

 

"Then... how come you're... here?" he asked, changing the direction seeing as the other one had been blocked. "If you don't know who actually pays for all of this?"

 

The man was still working at his fish. It was as though he was doing it to keep both his mind and hands busy or something.

 

"You guess you are?" He echoed, swatting down next to the man, mindful not to touch the debris of spattered flesh and blood. "Don't you... Don't you know who you are?"

  
  


James turned his gaze to look at him, his eyes hard, and full of an icy ager. He was happy here… happy not knowing. At least, in the day, he was. At night, it was a different matter when dreams started to torment him, and there was the sense that he was meant to be doing… something. Anything.

 

“I am just here,” he replied, very much on the defence… then he went on the offense. “Does it matter? I catch fish, that’s all. Besides, who the hell are you to ask?” He squinted a little, though the pounding headache. “Who are you, anyway? Can’t you just leave a man in peace?”   

 

The piercing gaze that the man turned toward him froze Q as he blinked his eyes rapidly, flustering and fighting the urge to take a step back and simply just flee. But he refrained, he stopped himself (was it? Or was it just he himself who unable to move, being pinned under the cold fury present in those eyes?)

 

The angry tone and the turmoil that James spat made him shrink, and Q could feel his stomach twisting. "Nobody," he whispered. "I'm nobody." But even as he was saying this, his mind was still filing this information away, noting the defensiveness and offensiveness and everything else in between. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't... I shouldn't have intruded."

 

Pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, pursing his lips, Q couldn't help but wonder increasingly  more and more whether this man, this James, could actually be an... amnesiac Bond or not. But then, one question must be asked if that were the case: how? "I didn't mean to upset you. Really." He knew it wouldn't be wise to press much further, not with the attitude the man had right then.

 

The man that was James sighed and rubbed his hands on his trousers, not caring that he was smearing fish guts and gore over the place.

 

“Look… I woke up in my head a year ago… I know I had been ill… I don’t have memory before that time. I had been sick, so Wayan told me…”he growled. The last fish went into the bucket with a slopping sound.

 

Q watched as James wiped his hands on his trousers, the blood, guts, and bits of flesh smearing all over made him feel a little sick. It reminded him of the splatter of crimson scarlet he had seen one too many times, and Q squeezed his eyes shut and mentally swatted the images away. The sight of blood didn't agree with him, that much was obvious, but that didn't mean he hadn't seen it before himself.

 

He opened his eyes to listen to James's story, carefully and cautiously, not liking what he was hearing here, and his stomach flipped even more, making it a little hard to breathe properly. A year ago.

 

A year ago was when the words "MIA: Missing in Action—Presumably dead," had been stamped onto 007's case files. A year ago was when James Bond dropped off the face of the earth, to a place where even Nine Eyes couldn't track him. And this man here, James, woke up a year ago, had been ill, and retained no memory before that time. His mouth suddenly went very dry, and there was not a sliver of doubt in his mind anymore.

 

Nine Eyes. The thought reminded him of something, and his eyes unconsciously shifted around. This was Bali, for God's sake, an international tourist attraction. How could Nine Eyes possibly not have tracked Bond down here, of all places?

 

"Sick?" The question flew out before he could actually stop it. And here he was, so absolutely resolved not to bother this man with anymore of his 'wondering' right then. "What did he mean 'sick?' Did some illness cause you to forget your memory?"

 

James looked up at him and his eyes narrowed a little... But it lacked that usual predator edge. He watched the boy with a frown, the unease obvious in his features.

 

"Mr. Solomon, was it?" James said icily. "Please don't take this the wrong way... But it's none of your bloody business. I don't know why I am here or how I got here. All I know is that I am here," he stood, grabbing the handful of fish guts.

 

"If you want to go into the town, you can go in with Wayan or you can walk in with me. It's not that far, and you really don't want to wander some of the roads. The Howler monkeys have a tendency to urinate on intruders."

 

Bond still had that unfathomable look in him, that much he was familiar with, but what unnerved him and took him somewhat aback was the wash of iciness that overcame him as he stared into the twin blue pools. It wasn't that he didn't understand where this sort of attitude stemmed from, but it certainly stood out in stark difference to the usual amusement and playfulness that had always been there whenever the man came to meet him for his fix of gadgets and weaponry provisions.

 

His toes curled, and Q forgot that his sandals couldn't hide this sort of nervousness like his usual shoes would do. "William... or Will," he said in a rush, as though James, Bond, hadn't just figuratively dump a bucket of ice water over him, "should be fine. I..." What did people say in this situation anyway? How did they talk to a previously presumed dead man, who used to be a spy for a high-profile government division and just 'happened' to have amnesia as of then, without endangering both of their lives in the process? "I apologize again," he said, shaking his head a little to clear his clouded mind, and got to his feet as well. The ball of yarn that was already pretty much tangled up in his mind got even messier, messier than even the biggest mess Oliver and Twist, his two cats, had sometimes made.

 

A shame Oliver passed away. Now only Twist was left, and initial the joke that it had been, ever since, had fallen flat. (Even more so when he called the poor creature over for food. "Twist! Twist, dinner!") He just hoped that Twist was doing all right with his sojourn over at Q's next-door neighbor, who happened to like Twist a lot just as much as Twist liked her. Or the treats she sometimes gave him, whichever it was.

 

Honestly, he stood there for a second or two, pondering about what James had just said. "Uh... I suppose I'll go with you," he replied, inexplicably so, not realizing for a moment that he had neither wallet or any cash on him right then. His intention had always been to just approach this strange man to confirm some of the questions that had been running wild inside his mind. Not that it was doing much better right then with the answers leading up to even more complicated questions and mystery. "Thank you."

 

At least he had locked his room out of general habit, having been living on his own for some time and burglarized once due to the inherent carelessness that he possessed with much of everything except for everything; except for his own specialty that had landed him a job in the MI6 in the first place and eventually moved up to be 007's quartermaster, of course.

 

And so they went, with him walking next to Bond, James, and giving them both enough space to maintain their personal boundaries. His eyes were focused on the ground, or to his sandals, and for a moment there, he wished he had worn his shoes instead. Or his loafers.

 

"I..." he began after a while, hold his hand over his forehead to shield his face from the sun. "You just... you look like someone I once knew, is all." The need to elaborate was great for some reason, gnawing at the base of his throat like cats trying to harness his attention without giving up. He licked his chapped lips. "So I can't help but ask."

 

James nodded and shifted the basket onto his hip as they moved into the throng of people who lived on this little paradise. The locals seemed to know him. Some of them cried out his name, he gave a stoic nod in return as he stepped beside the young man.

 

"I am sorry..." He said quietly. A monkey swung over there heads, and James tracked it with his eyes, an automatic instinctive reaction. "It must be hard to lose someone..." Said a man who knew that he had no one.

 

" And I am sorry for being harsh... Not used to people..."

 

Q couldn't help but observe. The locals seemed to know him all right, and their reactions were quite an interesting mixture: some avoided the man, some called out to him. James, on the other hand, was just as stoic as he remembered him to be even though they had met one another only for a handful of times. Even so, there was something slightly... off in his posture and eyes... even more so than they once had been, that is. There was no more sense of purpose behind them, no more of the internal, sharp drive that used to be there, flickering like a sort of cold fire behind those blue eyes.

 

He still had a keen awareness of his surrounding, that much was for certain, and suddenly, somehow, Q found himself smiling faintly. But that faded away quickly as the conversation shifted, and he shook his head, the images of the people Bond had lost over the years (which had been included among the sheaf of paperwork that was 007's confidential file) flared before his eyes and burned his constricting pupils. "It's nothing..." he said, equally just as quiet. "I knew was overstepping the line there." The admission didn't actually help, neither his curiosity nor the fact that he had managed to make the man apologize even though his anger had been justified and Q had been the one to probe him in the first place.

 

"I... it's not exactly losing, though." His eyes trailed back over to James, gauging for the man's reaction this time, his voice dropping another notch just so this would remain between the two of them alone. The background noises from the people all around were actually helping to mask away the conversation. Perhaps he was pushing things along a little too quickly here, but if anything, boldness wasn't something that he lacked, and Q really couldn't let this opening go... not just yet. "He disappeared a year ago, and I haven't been able to find him since."

 

The words tumbled out, and it took him a second or two before he realized that he had used "I" instead of the general pronounce of either we or us, almost as if this had been something personal to him, and not just work at the office that should be discarded upon coming home back to his mortgage and now one cat. Q shook the feeling away. What did it matter though?

 

Sometimes, it really did feel personal as it was.

 

*

 

If James was supposed to understand something in his words, it was clear that he did not get the message. Even the simplest thing like they could have known each other in the past, in his past life… It did not seem to register in the mind of the man. His fingers went to his head, and again, massaged gently at the ache that was always persistent.

 

“I should imagine that would be worse,” James said slowly as they walked side by side. His hand wandered to his shirt where he scratched at the scar, the bullet wound that Moneypenny had given him a few years ago in Istanbul. “Not knowing if someone was dead or alive…”

 

Q didn't know how to react when it didn't seem like James was making the necessary connection at all between the hints in his words and his own situation. Swallowing, he allowed the disappointment to wash over him for a second before pushing his glasses back up his nose, the sheen of sweat on his skin making it easier for the thing to slip.

 

But what more did he expect from an amnesiac man who could barely remember himself, who looked like he had lost a part of him being somewhere inside the dark crevices of his mind?

 

What had happened to Bond that could render him into a state such as this in the first place? What had happened one year ago?

 

His smile was faint and grim at James's comment, watching as the man reached up to scratch at a particular spot in his shirt that vaguely rang a bell in Q's mind.

 

"I suppose it is," he whispered, sighing one more time. "But I think... I know he's alive somewhere out there... That man is a hardcore die hard." Q scoffed, running his hand over his hair that had been heated under the direct light of the sun.

 

He was standing right beside him.

 

James chuckled and wiped the sheen of sweat off his own forehead and glanced down at the boy. Man. He looked like he was barely out of puberty.

 

"Then in that case, I sincerely hope that you find him. He is lucky to have someone who cares..." There was a note of resentment in his tone, even if he did not fully comprehend why he was resentful. He just knew that he was alone.

 

No one... No one had tried to find him. Hell, he had no idea what his last name was.

They came into the market and James stopped.

 

"Well... Mr Solomon, welcome to Bali, enjoy you stay. You need to see the purple stall over there," he pointed, "and get ear plugs."

 

Q looked as James chuckled. That was the first time the man had actually chuckled in front of him, as 007 or this amnesiac James. Smirking, smiling, or being an indifferent, demanding, urgent prick, yes, but not chuckling, no. And the sound was actually rather lovely, rumbling from deep in his chest to his lips...

 

But the resentment in those words caught him off guard, and how was Q going to respond to this? That he believed James to be the one he had been looking for? And then what? What happened after that? James seemed content with his life here in Bali, at least it seemed as such so far. Did he want to destroy this... this peace? But the circumstances in which James had arrived here, sick and all that, had been strange itself.

 

Was this truly peace? Was he really content here? If so, then why the note of resentment and bitterness?

 

The questions swirled in his mind, and Q didn't even realized that they had reached the market until James stopped, snapping him out of his daze.

 

"Ear plugs?" he frowned a little, eyes straying over to the purple stall that the man was pointing at, and blinked. "Is this place so noisy even after dark?"

 

James hummed a note under his breath, something akin to amusement glittering in those tired eyes. It was a sad, sort of... Broken amusement. Like there was something missing and he did not know what it was.

 

"You got the room quite cheaply, didn't you?" James said quietly and offered a small smile at the surprise on his face. " You, unfortunately, have a very noisy neighbour... That probably wasn't in the brochure..."

 

Q observed. He wasn't terribly good at reading people and their moods, not when everything was thickly concealed under veil, but the undercurrent of sadness and something else equally just as vulnerable were not lost on him. What was worse was that James probably had no idea why the feelings were there in the first place, and the thought just made him even more uncomfortable as it already was.

 

He nodded at James's question that seemed more like a statement than anything else, feeling a little surprised and somewhat awkward at the smile that was then being offered to him. "'A very noisy neighbour?'" he echoed before laughing softly. "What, do you become a party animal at night?"

 

James smiled awkwardly and shrugged. He wanted to press the man, and he was sure... He was sure that he knew the face although he had no idea where from. Maybe before he awoke in Bali... Maybe this young man man was looking for him?

 

Maybe pigs would fly.

 

Dismissing the thought, James hitched the basket onto his hip. "Just trust me... You'll need them. Enjoy Bali. Watch out for those Howlers," and with that he strode into the crowd and seemed to vanish into them as if he had never been there at all.

 

…

 

That night, James ate in town. He paid for his meal with the money he had gotten from the fish and he enjoyed his food, washing it down with a large scotch.

 

He made his way back to apartment number one, feeling a little unsteady on his feet. It had been too long since he had a stiff drink.

 

The night was warm, but there was a lovely fresh breeze coming from offshore. He opened the windows and doors and drew the nets over them, preventing insects and the occasional monkey from entering.

 

Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed into bed, and very soon he was asleep.

 

.

 

The way James was shrugging wasn't very reassuring, that much was for certain. But then he was looking at Q, and for a moment there, Q swore he could see a spark of recognition, of an inkling of something, there in those eyes.

 

Suddenly, his stomach clenched, and he waited with baited breath. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, perhaps some miracle where Bond would suddenly remember himself and who he had once been just by encountering a familiar face for long enough, but it wasn't the man hitching up the basket more onto his hip, giving him yet another welcome to Bali, and strolling away as though nothing had happened. As though Q had been imagining all of that by himself.

 

He was flustered. He wanted to reach out to the man, to shout into his face that he was the bloody sod he had been looking for, but that obviously wasn't happening. Either because James was walking away too fast, or because Q just couldn't will his body to move properly. And to be perfectly honest, he was afraid it was the latter rather than the former explanation.

 

-

 

Q didn't bring his wallet along with him, and so instead of buying the recommended earplugs, which still had him puzzling over why he should even get them in the first place, he decided to wander about the market, looking through the goods and maybe finding where Bond had gone off to in the process.

 

He was sure he would have found the man if it hadn't been for the sudden light headed wave that washed over him. It was when Q realized he hadn't brought neither cap nor hat with him to actually cover his head under the sun. Normally, he wasn't so unprepared, but this little trip around the market had been unexpected and unanticipated, and he had been desperate to talk some more to James to have much care at that certain point.

 

And so Q staggered back to his rented room, bearing it in mind to keep to the path that had been pointed out by a man who had been positively irritated at the time by all of his nonstop inquiries, and slept most of the day away as his body tried to compensate for the seventeen-hour long flight, the three-hour delay notwithstanding, and the possibly sunstroke that he had had coming for going without a cap under this sort of heat.

 

He slept through dinner and woke up sluggishly, the dreams and constant flashing images hadn't done him much better than before, but improvement was still an improvement, and he pushed himself up from the mattress finally after thinking that he had wasted enough time staring up at the ceiling.

 

The night was warm, and the sea that had been so cerulean during the day was inky black by then, sound of the kissing waves carried over to his ears by the salty, rather cooling breeze. He left the door open with the net screens drawn to allow the natural air in, the corner of his eyes catching a sliver of light coming from room number one, whose doors and windows were also opened.

 

He wondered if Bond had returned from his fish-selling trip and whether he should... approach or not, seeing as he had been bugging the man a lot just that early afternoon alone.

 

Minutes went by, there was still no conclusion, but before his musing could run its course, a hoarse scream coming from that direction pierced through his mind.

 

It was Bond's scream.

 

Decision made for him without him even realizing it, Q was taking off, running out of his garden to the number one's back step, pushing open the nets, and rushing in. Bond was thrashing on his bed, eyes shut tight in the dim light, face scrunched up as if in pain with his mouth open in a loud scream that whatever Godforsaken nighttime terror was ripping from him.

 

"Bond!" Q went over, his limbs jittery with the shot of adrenaline pumping in his veins that he had only ever known how to properly channel into his professional work, and tried to wake the man up. "Bond, wake up!"

 

*

 

His limbs shook at the drill went through his skull, and sliced into the tender tissue below it. Bond arched, and tried to get free... Working off his watch... Madeline... Wasn't that her name? But he couldn't grasp it... Her face shifted... And he was under water... Trying to get to her... Trying…

 

"Vesper!" He jerked awake with a shout and the feel of someone's hand on his arm. He snatched the wrist and twisted harshly, the instincts of his subconscious free to come to the surface…

 

It crumbled and he was there, letting go of the man's wrist. "Shit... What are you doing here?" His hand scratched at his bare chest, the bullet wound that Moneypenny had given him.

 

*

 

He snatched Bond's arms, as much as he could anyway, trying to stop the thrashing and the screaming that was quickly embedding itself into the back of his skull. It was of no use, of course. Bond was physically more powerful and fit than his gangling limbs would ever be, but he was trying, and calling out to try and wake the bloody man up.

 

Vesper? His eyes widened at the shout, but before Q could possibly retrieve the information from his memory database, one of his wrist was caught and twisted hard enough for him to let out small cry of pain. "Bond! Let go of me!" he hissed. "Bond!" He knew that this was more of a defense mechanism triggered in the throes of a nightmare and didn't blame the man for unconsciously hurting him, but God, it still bloody hurt.

 

Finally, whether Bond came back to his senses by himself or by Q's demands, he would never know, but at least he did release his vice-like grip, and Q took a step back, his breathing a little ragged, glasses askew, and cradling his abused wrist in the other hand.

 

"I heard you scream," was his simple reply to the man's hoarse question, eyes trailing back to where Bond was scratching his bare chest, spotting the bullet wound under the pads of his fingertips. The location of it closely matched Moneypenny's report of where she had accidentally shot 007 back in Istanbul a few years back.

 

There was no doubt about it anymore. This man was James Bond, MI6's missing 007.

 

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, giving the man's shaken features an once over.

 

James leant forwards and pressed his fingers into his eyes and he rubbed them, trying to calm himself, trying to calm.

 

He shook how his head... And then nodded.

 

"Just nightmares... I don't know if it was from before..." He looked up at him. "Sorry for waking you."

 

Q squeezed his wrist a little and tried to turn it when he winced a little. Perhaps a bit of a sprain, he deemed, directing his attention back to the man before him who then seemed to be trying very hard to calm himself down from whatever nightmare that had gripped him.

 

He shook his head at James's apology. "I was already awake." He shrugged, eyes still trained on his previously assigned agent, that sarcastic that had no idea who the both of them were at that exact moment. "Fancy a walk outside for some fresh air?" He offered all of a sudden, not quite trusting the darkness that lurked in the room.

 

He nodded. His fingers touched above his right side and massaged the spot gently, letting out a low groan. His head was throbbing. It was a steady, sharp pain that tore through his skull but as he breathed, it fled away into a steady dull ache.

 

He slipped out the bed and padded into the bathroom. With shaking hands, he rummaged until he found them in the little Orange pot and downed two of the tablets, dipping his head under the sink to take the pills.

 

Q watched Bond leave after massaging that certain spot to the side of his head once more, eyes following the man's figure as it headed into the adjacent bathroom until he disappeared beyond the threshold. He sighed quietly and turned back to stare at the darkened scenery outside the room beyond the door, listening to the sound of rummaging then running water while he waited.

 

Just his luck to have his wrist twisted on a supposed holiday. He thought sarcastically to himself and looked back when he heard Bond emerge.

 

"Shall we?" He nodded at the door, the image of Silva's virus infiltrating MI6's system just as he had been so single-mindedly focused on cracking the 'puzzle' swirling in his mind—a reminder of a judgment failure on his part.

 

"Because you still have spots."

 

Q shook himself mentally and licked his lips.

 

James slipped his sandals on and nodded as he pulled a linen shirt over his shoulders. A glance at the clock told him that it was just after midnight.

 

He stepped outside with the young man and walked along beside him, head tilted up and towards the sky. He breathed deep and slow.

 

Once they were far away enough from the house, Q actually allowed Bond, James, some time to breathe and recollect himself. The heat of the day already cooling down somewhat, thank God.

 

Silence lapsed for a bit with him looking at the patterns on the loose sand before whispering, "You said, 'Vesper,' just before you woke up." His eyes trailed over to the man. "You remember what you saw in that... nightmare?" He was probing again. Probably unwise given that the man was just recovering from his nighttime terror that seemed to have been plaguing him for long enough that he felt the need to suggest Q buy a pair of earplugs.

 

But if not at that moment then when? What was the point in dragging this out, especially when it would only serve to torment this man more?

 

James didn't answer... He just kept walking for a time before he spoke.

 

"It's... Faces. Places... Like little snippets. I saw a blonde woman tell me she loved me... I don't know who she was. A dark haired woman drowned... A grey haired lady who died in my arms..."

 

Q listened, his mind already supplying the rest of the information, all that he had learnt from reading Bond's case file, of course.

 

"Madeleine Swann," the name began falling from his lips as the night breeze brushed over the both of them. "And Vesper Lynd... I believe they should be the women whom you're describing," he whispered quietly after a long second of silence had lapsed. And Q didn't quite remember himself blinking as he said those words, his eyes fixed upon the man in question.

 

Bond froze at those words, and he pivoted on the spot. He licked his lips.

 

"What?" He said softly. His face was relaxed, but the tension was through his body.

 

The tension that fused into James's previously relaxed posture immediately after he had begun listing out the name wasn't lost on him, and Q crossed his arms in front of his chest in an unconscious defensive pose, looking at the man before him for a long while. 007 would never hurt him, that much he knew, but this man, James, was different... And while the sharp edged of a well-trained agent had dulled somewhat, James remained a wild, unpredictable card still.

 

There was no telling how he would actually react to this.

 

Q sighed, adjusting his glasses. "James..." he began with a sigh. "The man I told you I have been looking for is named James Bond. And I have reasons to believe that you are him after all." His eyes were fixed on Bond's face, gauging for his reactions.

He turned away and walked to the water's edge. Sand came up between his toes as he trod, going into his sandals... And then the water splashed over them. His knees shook and for a moment he thought he was going to go down... But he didn't. He managed to straighten up and breathe deep.

 

He was rigid.

 

His eyes followed James as the man turned away and headed toward the water edge of the inky black sea, and Q pursed his lips, following Bond but stopped short of entering the water.

 

"Bond," he called, a pinch in his stomach.

 

"Your name is fake... Its... A code..." His hand went to his head, as a shard of pain ripped through what was left of the part of his brain that remembered faces. He growled in frustration. "Why can't I remember?"

Sighing once more, he bit his lip and waded into the water. Thank God this was the tropics and the water wasn't freezing as his natural instincts of someone who hadn't left his country before this had told him.

 

He reached his hand up and held James's elbow, squeezing it unconsciously. "That's right," he admitted in a whisper. "I was your quartermaster, that's why you once called me Q," he reminded him slowly, not wanting to rush things. "Don't push it," he muttered. "It won't do you good."

 

James snarled and jerked his arm away from the younger man, and move away from him, parallel to the beach.

 

"Stop... Just stop... I can't take this..." He had turned and in long strides, had left the water and the beech, and went into the small beach side apartment.

 

The door slammed. The conversation was over.

 

*

 

Q did stop, snapping his jaws shut and never attempting to reach out to the fuming man anymore after that. Already, James was storming away, heading back toward his apartment and slamming the door shut behind him, the sound of it echoing from the distance.

 

The best thing he could hope for right then was that James wouldn't go and mention anything he had just heard aloud inside that place... There was no telling whether there would be hearing devices implanted in there or not.

 

He stood there for a while longer before deciding to head back to his own apartment and closed the door behind him as well. It was a restless night, one could hardly sleep through something like that, obviously. 


	3. Chapter 3

 

James didn't bother trying to sleep, knowing damn well that it would not happen to him. Closing his eyes, he tried to think... He tried to remember. He tried to understand, and put names to faces, to place this new information in his mind in a way that would not cause more trouble.

 

This man's name was Q. This face... He had known the face even if he hadn't known the name.

 

By the time morning came, he was exhausted.

 

*

 

His laptop screen shone in the darkness of the room as Q kept an ear out for any other noise that might come from his unwitting neighbour in room number one. Whenever he was stressed, whenever things became difficult, he knew he could count on his laptop, his machinery and their functionality. It was his comfort zone, he could curl up around it while seeking some peace of mind and a place to channel his jittery energy. However, right then, there was no digital puzzle for him to solve, no system for him to crack, and no network for him to protect from being hacked.

 

Right then, there was only Bond and the mystery that had veiled itself around the man so thickly, yet obscurely so, that it almost seemed impenetrable... Of course, nothing was impenetrable, but it was hard to decode something when it was not yet a tangible object, or even some sort of solid form, in front of you. So there was barely any source of comfort for him to derive from right then, obviously, if not none at all.

 

What had happened in that 'middle of nowhere' in Morocco? That mystery facility? What was the purpose of that place? Why had Bond gone there in the first place? A so-called 'investigation' had been conducted, but he had never been able to hear the result of it before the entire system got reformed and the entire team of quartermasters was relocated elsewhere.

 

Fuck. Q cursed and ran his hands through his face. Him and Moneypenny shouldn't have listened to M; they should have done something to help Bond out, send in some help or anything of the likes. It could've, should've, been possible. They should've been able to retrieve the man back!

 

And before he knew it, with the questions reeling inside his mind, morning came with the sun rising up at the far horizon, round and enormous and orange, casting its first rays of light over the rippling surface of the sea, encasing it in a long stretch of golden glitter. The light filtered in through the window, waking Q up from his trance-like state.

 

A cup of concentrated caffeine right then would be ideal.

  


\

  
  


Sitting at the back steps of the house, he pulled the top coat closer to his frame and cradled the cup with that hot, steaming liquid in both hands. Eyes trailing over to the other house, he couldn't help but wonder how that man was doing right then with the sort of bombshell that had been dropped on him.

 

It was the kind of bombshell they no one coped with well. It was the sort of thing that tore you up bit by fractured bit until there was nothing left inside.

 

The moment the sun was up, Bond was out. Exhausted and irritable and with the knowledge that he would have to speak to the young man next door - Q or William or whoever the hell he was - he made himself wash and he made himself dry before heading out into the beach in swim trunks.

 

Sunglasses over his icy eyes, he chucked in the snorkel set and flippers into the boat, and the baskets that he used for catching crustaceans before he set about casting off.

 

Q caught sight of Bond leaving his house. His mouth opened for a moment but no words came, and he decided to close his lips once more the moment he saw the dark glasses over those eyes along with all the equipment that he carried with him as he headed over to where he had secured his boat from the afternoon before. It looked like he needed more time to process his own thoughts, something that Q himself entirely understand, and so it was best not to disturb this, and it was best to give Bond some time to realize the fact that he wasn't as alone in this world as he had previously thought...

 

"Then in that case, I sincerely hope that you find him. He is lucky to have someone who cares..."

 

The words rang in his ears, and Q sighed, sipping on his awful coffee and directed his eyes to another spot to occupy his vision. What needed to be said had been said, and it was then best to let Bond approach him on his own from now on, on his own terms and at his own pace.

 

*

 

Bond cast off and although he could feel eyes on the back of his head, he didn't turn around. He didn't let himself turn around because turning around at that point in time would have been a monumentally bad idea.

 

He would have screamed.

 

He rowed to a little cove down the coast and set down the mooring line before starting to dive.

 

When the last causation was down, he was still full of a restless frenetic energy...

 

A fifteen minute row. He could swim that easily enough.

 

It was midday by the time he emerged out the water, shaking off the droplets, pulling the goggles from his eyes.

 

*

 

Times like these were when he wanted to have Oliver and Twist by his side the most, seeing as their calming presence calmed him. But since Oliver was dead and Twist was half a globe away, he didn't think it was plausible right then to be honest. A shame.

 

But he had fixed the location of where his call was coming from and secured the line for as long as he could by the time he gave Sarah, his next door neighbour, a ring. It was a weekend, and knowing she was home, he thought it was a good time as any to call and check up on Twist. His Turkish Van was doing fine, she had said cheerily while petting said creature in her lap, how was Thailand?

 

For the first time in a long time, he was grateful for his own paranoia as once being a quartermaster to the double-oh programme. And Q had shrugged and said it was freakishly hot, but the locals were friendly enough.

 

The rest of the morning had him taking a much needed shower to wake himself up, and padding alone into the town's market alone on the appointed path (with his wallet this time) in search for some food, since the last time he ate had been some twenty hours ago or more.

 

Then there was only the waiting left to be done, something that he was both good and bad at. The restlessness was what he despised, but the result was either his reward or a bitter pill to swallow. Most of the time, he should know perfectly well which one it was, but sometimes, he didn't. Like that time while he was solving Silva's puzzle, having been so bloody damn sure that he was going win only to jeopardize the whole system in the end... Right then, Q feared it would become pretty much the same thing.

 

It wasn't until midday that he finally saw that familiar figure emerging from the water, his skin wet and shining under the sunlight, through the open window of his apartment, and Q turned away quietly, heading further inside to give the man some more privacy.

 

Bond, however, knew that he had to let the man explain, let the man make him understand. When he knocked on the younger man’s door, he was dressed smartly...but oddly casual for the agent.

 

"Mr. Solomon. Lunch?"

When the inevitable knock came, and Q opened the door, the way Bond, James, was dressed stopped him for a moment. It wasn't the usual suit or three-piece that the man tended to wear on his missions, but the outfit still looked very smart and fitting on him nonetheless... And he looked just as handsome as always.

 

His eyes trailed back down to the shorts and tee that he was wearing with his indoor slippers then back up again. He looked very out of place next to James, not that he hadn't always been amid the people of MI6 anyway... The old MI6 with experienced and aged agents, that is. "Will or William should be all right." Or Q. "Uh... would you mind if I change really quick?"

 

The agent inclined his head in agreement and, crossing his arms, turned to look out at the water. He was giving him privacy, giving him the space that he needed to change and gather himself. Bond had spotted the fluster the moment that it had happened.

 

Q quickly turned away at the nod and hurried over to his luggage to pull out some more decent clothing that he had, then hurried into the bathroom to change. It was nothing much, just an attire that was more or less similar to the one he had worn the previous night. Still, that was the best he had, especially when this was supposed to be his trip alone to the tropics that was always 30 something degrees Celsius in temperature around this time, being so near the equator as it was.

 

Of course, he could just walk out of here in his shorts, tee, and loafers no problem, he hadn't cared much about his appearance for a long time already. However, seeing Bond in that getup, dressed up so smartly, it would be a disrespect to wear anything too mismatched to the man.

 

And so, he reemerged as quickly as he had promised, fixing his somewhat askew glasses back up his nose, wearing trousers and a casual shirt with rolled up sleeves.

 

"Sorry," he muttered in a rush, putting on his shoes. "Shall we?"

 

James offered him what he hoped was a warm smile as he nodded. It was a tense thing, filled with an anxious worry.

 

They went down towards the more touristy area, with stills that catered to Western customers. "What do you fancy?"

 

The smile was quite a generous attempt at... civility, he supposed. And didn't ease his nerves, but well, he appreciated the effort at any rate. The two of them went into town together, and Q let Bond lead the general direction of their little trip. Eventually, they ended up at a more crowded area with a mixture of several foreign languages mingling up with one another.

 

He blinked at Bond's question, frowning a little to think up a reply. "Maybe something with noodles?" he spoke up, looking over at the other man. "What about you?"

 

Bond was awkward and it showed but then again it was completely understandable, feeling awkward in the situation that he was in. After all,  who wouldn't feel awkward when you crash into someone who knows who you are especially when you didn’t have a clue!

 

Bond. James Bond.

 

It had a ring to it and James felt his lip curl into a grin.

 

Ducking under a palm tree, he lead the way to a bar at the edge of town. "Best noodles on the island," he said and he should know.

 

Q could tell that the man was awkward, and perhaps a little jittery as well, feelings he knew were warranted for with the sort of situation they were in. But well... he would be lying if he said he wasn't amused by seeing 007, with or without his memory, actually awkward about something. It was actually reassuring to a certain extent, knowing that he wasn't the only one going into this more than a little nervous.

 

There was, surprisingly, a grin on James’ lips that lazily stretched there out of the blue, and Q could only wonder what thought it was that brought about such a reaction.

 

The aroma coming from the bar was undeniably captivating, managing to make him feel a little hungry despite the pinch in his stomach. It was then that he realized the irony of this whole ordeal. James fucking Bond, lady killer, taking him out for lunch. Q scoffed. "Well, what are we waiting for then?"

 

"Waiting for you to decide if this place is acceptable for you," he replied as he sat down. The man at the bar nodded to James and James inclined his head in return.

 

He turned back to the man beside him and read off the menu, translating the Indonesian to English with ease, pointing out the dishes that he liked.

 

Q laughed. "I'm not picky with my food," he said. "And I don't doubt it's the best if it's coming from you." Which was true. All the people who knew 007 knew he was a man with high-class taste, whenever he could get it, of course. And since tastes resided in the area of implicit memory, he didn't think it would actually change that much, if at all.

 

He blinked when Bond began to translate Indonesian to English with incredible ease. Impressive. Had he learnt all that during the one year he had been... essentially left here? The thought made his stomach churn, but he waved it away for the time being. "Suggest me one," he said with a note of contemplation. "I haven't a clue what to choose."

 

Bond smirked at that, a small, flirtatious little thing and then turned to look at the man behind the counter. His Indonesian was fluent, and apparently whatever had happened to cause the amnesia, it had not effected the part of his brain that dealt with language. It was fluent... Easy.

 

It was Bond.

 

He turned to look back at Q... Then out at the crystal blue waters and he took a deep breath.

"Who are you? Really... Why are you here?" He asked, as two bottles of what looked like homemade brown ale were set in front of them.

 

Q gave Bond a pointed look before sniffing and turning away. But it was still an impressive thing, watching Bond in his element. The sharp outfit, the flirtatious sort of gestures, the entire look itself... some things did not change it seemed, amnesiac or otherwise.

 

He fiddled with the chopsticks on the table as silence lapsed between them, but Bond's questions drew his attention back.

 

Eyeing the bottles the waiter had just set down next to them, Q licked his lips. "I just..." he began, voice dropping low to a mere whisper, "like I said, I was your quartermaster at MI6." Thinking back, that time seemed so far away now that it almost felt like a lifetime had past since... Perhaps it had. Time had changed, and he could hardly recognize MI6 anymore. C had made sure it was like a blood transfusion, flushing out the old and replacing everything fresh and new.

 

Q didn't know if he should be glad that he had only been transferred to the security branch instead of being given early retirement.

 

"This was supposed to be my month long holiday." He scoffed, an amused smile on his lips. Trust 007 to ruin the initial plan. That should apply to all of the double-oh agent to be honest. So much for 'getting away from it all'. "I obviously didn't know you, of all people, would turn out to be my next-door neighbour." The irony of life, to be honest.

 

Somewhere in that sentence, James had frozen as he digested the words that the young man was saying. MI6…

 

With his left hand, he lifted the bottle to his lips and he took a sip of it. His right hand, his fingers curled... As if pulling a trigger. You could damage memory but you can't hurt instincts, it seemed.

 

"If that's true..." He said softly, "how come I have been here for a year?"

 

Q took a swig of his drink as well, watching the emotions flickered over Bond's face. There was a sort of recognition there that he could see brewing under the surface, not quite yet, but at least it was still there. And just this reason alone made him feel a sliver of hope; perhaps things could work out in the end, after all.

 

"That's something I haven't figured out yet," Q replied, equally just as quiet. "You disappeared without a trace one year ago, and the last tracking I did before that found you at an unknown facility in the middle of nowhere in Morocco... Then you were gone. Just like that."

 

He sighed, shooting his eyes out toward the sea, and shook his head. "There was a search. They said there was a search, anyway. They pulled me out before I had the chance to legally access the case file." Legally, obviously. Because he could do it illegally as well. But Q was not stupid. He knew the moment he hacked into the system would be the day he terminated the last hope of ever actually figuring out what had really happened. Most of the old, trustworthy people, including M, were gone now, and Moneypenny couldn't very well risk her own status over this... not when she was following C around, and not when they could possibly need her later on should anything else major occurred that needed tending after.

 

"Morocco..." James stared ahead, his eyes wide. His fingers touched his skull, right where the tiny hole was that had been drilled into his brain.

 

"I was... Looking for someone. The blonde woman..." He licked his lips. "She came... It hurt... I remember... A cat..."

 

So it was the right thing to mention Morocco. Q thought to himself, and observed as Bond placed his fingers over that same odd spot again. That same spot that he shouldn't be touching if he were having a normal headache. Q made note of that and was about to reach out to examine that area when the man's following, disjointed words caught his attention.

 

Though Q hardly understand how a cat got thrown into the mix, but when the missing 007 wound up to be his next-door neighbor in Bali, he didn't doubt the possibility of it. "Madeleine Swann was the blonde woman's name," he told Bond. "You were going to Morocco with her in search for an organization called Spectre, which was, as I found out, run by someone named Oberhauser... Does any of that ring a bell?"

 

"He doesn't use that name any more..." Bond said, quiet and sudden. "He... He hated me... What was his name?" He rubbed, furiously. "I remember like... A whining sound... A drill..."

 

Q was surprised by the sudden clarity and certainty with which Bond said that Oberhauser didn't go by that name anymore. He had thought so himself. But if it had been difficult to track the information of somewhat who had previously been confirmed dead along with his father in a blizzard, it was downright impossible with Oberhauser. The gap of time in between were decades, back to the time where technology was not yet the 'big' thing in town, and so the man had literally left no trace left behind to trail after.

 

"The only name of his I can confirm right now is the old one he had, Franz Oberhauser," he replied, frowning when Bond began rubbing that spot with stark determination now. Then, he stopped cold. A drill? "Let me see that," he said, reaching out and wanting to push the man's hand temporarily aside to see exactly what it was that he was rubbing at.

 

It was a small wonder that Bond let him see, let him touch. There was a small, perfectly circular scar that indented to suggest that the bone was missing. His fingers covered it again. "I get headaches..." He grumbled. "Bad ones..."

 

Q spot the hole right away, as it was obviously man-made and bore a particular shape that fit all too perfectly with the image of a drill that he was having in his mind. He felt his stomach drop, not quite bothering with the fact that normally Bond wouldn't have allowed anyone to actually have a look, let alone touch, his anything, especially his body.

 

His brain was whirring as he realized what part of the brain that hole aligned with.

 

"Someone... someone seemed to have physically tampered with the part of your brain that stores away your memory—" The image of Oberhauser hovered in front of his eyes, and his stomach churned. "—by drilling directing into it." His voice was but a whisper in the noises of the bar. "That's why you can't remember who you are."

 

He turned to look at Q, his expression unreadable and then looked down at the bottle in his hand. He took a sip and then set it down again. The food was set in front of him, but he wasn't hungry.

 

"Since you came... I remember... Snippets. We met by a painting... I told you that you still had spots..."

 

Q was sickened. The thought of someone drilling into his brain, the whine of the machine (so familiar to that which he often heard at the dentist)... they bore into his mind, and he couldn't imagine the sort of pain Bond must have gone through when that had happened. He doubted those bastards had given him fucking anesthetic for it.

 

A chill ran up his spine at that alone even though he was hot just seconds ago. "A familiar face must have jogged your memory." What is left of it anyway. But he looked up when Bond said they met by a painting (The Fighting Temeraire, his mind whispered), and even that bit when he had insinuated that Q was still a bit too young because he still had spots.

 

Suddenly, someone let out a strangled laugh, and Q realized a few seconds later that it was him who was laughing, the sound a mixture of overwhelmed awe and a tinge of despair. "You still remember that?" he asked almost breathlessly. Somehow, even though he had logically known since the previous day that this was undeniably Bond, Q couldn't but rub a hand over his face and said, "You really are him." More to himself than anything.

 

"You've been looking for me," James said as if this much were obvious. It wasn't that he was wholly accepting what had been said, what this Q was saying... But he seemed to know him, and he didn't know himself.

 

"I have," Q replied, sobering up after pinching the bridge of his nose and adjusting his glasses back to place.

 

James licked his lips.

 

"If I am... And I am... I'm not... I don't know... How do I know you're not the ones who put me here?"

 

He gave the man a long look after that next question was asked before leaning forward and swallowed down a gulp of that ale from the brown bottle.

 

"007," he said, the name rolling off his lips before he could stop it. It was habit sliding back into place, and he shook it away. "If I were the one to have done this to you, it would've been so much easier to watch you suffer from far away through a screen, not knowing who you are and thinking that there was no one out there who was looking for you, like I've been doing this past year, than to endure a seventeen-hour flight to come here, pretend to be your neighbor, and try to jog your memory."

 

James shook his head. Paranoia... It truly was an art form for the agent and one that was slipping back into place. "Sorry Mr. Solomon... But if you're not then why are you here? Coincidence?' James stabbed at the noodles with his chopsticks.

 

"If not you then who? Why? Why leave me here?"

 

It really was paranoia, and Q was very much aware of that. Every field agent was like that, and he wondered for a moment there if there was a negative correlation between the number of triggers pulled and the level of trust in others. He really shouldn't be offended, he knew he shouldn't... but a sliver of it was still there, and he trampled down upon it quick enough.

 

The man was an amnesiac, for God's sake, he had the right to be distrusting to a 'stranger,' who popped out of nowhere into his life.

 

"Entirely a coincidence," he replied, voice quiet. "I never knew you were here until Wayan introduced you to me yesterday." His eyes turned away, picking up his chopsticks and twirled the noodles around with their tips. "Oberhauser is most probably the mastermind behind it," he murmured. There was no other plausible explanation. "Profile said he was once your adopted brother. But him and his father had reportedly died in a blizzard back when you were eleven. He must have some sort of grudge against you or something..."

 

James looked down at his dinner and the sense of food completely died in that moment. Adopted brother… with an adopted father… which meant his parents… It was a nasty, cold feeling that slid down his throat like a slither of ice. Bond closed his eyes and for a long moment, rested his head in his hands, before finishing that beer in great gulps.

 

Q was quiet for a long time, knowing that he had touched a sensitive nerve without realizing it sooner. He had always been like that when it came to reporting the facts: never quite thinking of the emotional implications of it all until later on. He watched the man from across the table and sighed, feeling rather torn and more than a little guilty for saying that so straight out and plainly as such.

 

"I'm sorry for your losses," he offered, which by itself didn't mean much of anything, but it was the best that he could do right then anyway.

 

He scoffed, a bitter, emotionless sound and shook his head a little before setting the bottle down. A flick of the hand to the man behind the bar, and then a large glass of brown liquid was put in front of him.

 

He drank it in three large gulps.

 

“I don’t remember them so do they even count?” he said dryly, staring ahead at the water. He pushed the noodles around on the plate.

 

The amount of alcohol Bond was consuming wasn't at all that surprising to be perfectly honest, Q thought to himself, remembering all the whispers he had heard about him, the 007 agent, back when the double-oh programme was still active. Notorious among the double-ohs that he was for being a daredevil and causing the most damage, property-wise.

 

This situation warranted it anyway.

 

"Doesn't mean you will never remember them," he countered. "So of course anything counts." With that he swallowed down the tasteless noodles with difficulty and washed the bite down with a gulp of his drink as well.

James did not answer. He could not think of anything that would make it seem better so he said nothing, and pushed the food away. He was silent for a long long time after that, finishing the glass, and then a second… he was half way through the third.

 

“So if I am who you say I am… now what?”

 

Q finished as much of the food as he could, knowing that he needed it more than he thought he did, before pushing it away as well. He was just finishing his first glass, observing how the man across from him was downing them like water, when the inevitable question came—one of those inquiries that he didn't have an answer to. Q ignored the first part of that if and focused on the latter, the "now what," for the time being.

 

"The best course of action now is to see if we can try to bring back your memory," he began, his voice bearing a bit of a clinical note. "And I'll contact some people from the agency to set up an arrangement to bring you back to London first..." Nine Eyes flashed before his mind, and Q pursed his lips. "How about that?"

He was about to answer when he noticed two men looking at him… watching him in a way that made his hackles raise. They were local, and although he had seen them around, he never knew their names. They paid him no attention and he paid them no attention… but it was the way that they were looking at him… not him, at William. Something cold slid down his spine and he exhaled softly.

 

“You should do that…” he said slowly.

 

Q did not notice the looks he was getting. However, he did notice the tension that had seeped into Bond's posture, being so close to the man as it was.

 

"Don't worry," he said, knowing how this worked and didn't turn to follow those blue gaze to see who exactly it was that was looking. "I'll get you back home again." No matter what. They couldn't afford to lose Bond, not really, not when the man was the key to bringing down SPECTRE and solving the questions regarding Nine Eyes that were then popping up like mushrooms after rain.

 

Not when Q refused to lose another agent whom had gone missing under his watch once and wound up amnesiac and alone here for more than year.

 

"How come you lost me then?" James said coolly as he watched the men. They finished their drinks - slowly - and left, talking quietly to each other. It was a low blow that he had directed at Q... One that he couldn't help.

 

This question froze Q and he stared at Bond for a long while, hoping his face was as impassive as he wanted it to be instead of showing the turmoil that was brewing under his skin.

 

"Because I was just a quartermaster, and the one that could have helped didn't have the power to cover for you anymore," he finally replied, finishing his cool drink. "They tried to bring you back in, people from the new system, but we knew you were on to something, and the current M at the time, sort of like our director, didn't think it would be safe trying to send in help to assist you as that would alert undesirable people of your location."

 

The words fell from his mouth in quiet whispers, and just remembering the how hectic it had been back then made him sick and tired. The utter helplessness made him sick and tired.

 

"Then you disappeared. I couldn't track you through the nano trackers we had placed in your bloodstream anymore, and they pulled me out from the quartermaster-branch before disassembling it altogether," cutting me off of my authorization to access sensitive case files. He paused, taking in a deep breath to fill his shuddering lungs, before looking back up straight into Bond's eyes once more. "That's how I lost you."

 

The agent chewed over words thoughtfully and then slowly nodded... As if he understood. He had no idea how much he didn't understand, the lack of memories enough to make him restless and irritable.

 

He felt like he was going insane.

 

"If the other people are undesirable... Then I shouldn't go back to London, should I? Wouldn't then recognise me?" Smart man.

 

"Not that I think they aren't following you now," Q continued without missing a beat. "You're being left here was obviously deliberate, and whoever did it is still keeping tab on you." The island was small with lots of tourists pouring in from around the world. It wouldn't be hard to track Bond and trail after him, to be honest.

 

007 wasn't someone you could just leave there unsupervised, after all. The man still managed to be damaging even with supervision.

 

"But London is our best shot right now..." Q ran a hand through his hair, knowing how risky this whole ordeal was. "All of our available resources, equipment, and help are there... Once we've managed to collect that, we can leave." Of course, he wasn't actually noticing that he was using "we" at all.

 

That made Bond shiver and he glanced over his shoulder before nodding slowly.

 

"Then in that case..." He said softly. "You need to make contact with your people... I need to make sure that the people here still think I am clueless," he said softly.

 

It was a terrifying prospect, to be honest, being constantly monitored without even knowing it. One that could make anyone more than a little paranoid and on edge most of the time. However, as it stood, he had no regrets disrupting this so-called life of Bond's at all, not anymore. Obviously, this was some sort of game for a sick bastard out there, and the thought alone made his skin crawl. It made him wonder whether or not they already knew who he was.

 

"I will." He nodded before pausing a little. "How are you going to make sure of that though?" he asked, out of curiosity.

 

Bond caught his wrist and pulled him too him. It was a lot more gentle than the last contact that they had. He pulled Q closer and pressed his mouth over the younger man’s in a surprising, sweet kiss. It was using the young man to keep his cover, and would provide an explanation as to why they would need to spend time together.


	4. Chapter 4

Q raised a curious eyebrow when Bond caught his wrist, which reminded him of the painful twist the man had given his other one just the night before, and barely registered the man leaning in until he was but inches away and their lips met.

 

The startlingly sweet kiss froze Q, and his body stilled, eyes a little wide.

 

"I need to make sure that the people here still think I am clueless."

 

Right. And Q closed his eyelids, pretending to lean into the kiss. He should have seen this coming really. This was 007 dressed up all smartly and taking him out on lunch after all. The only things missing were a fancy car and some real wine instead of beer.

 

Bond’s heart started to race when he broke the kiss, and he was unable to resist the savage, triumphant grin that was on his face.

 

*

 

The kiss broke, leaving Q a little dazed and somewhat flustered still, despite perfectly understanding the reason behind it. And James's triumphant, savage grin didn't quite help as he felt a bit of heat spreading up his neck.

 

"Shall I ask for the bill then?" Q cleared his throat before asking, his voice at a normal volume now seeing as there was no reason left to be discreetly whispering anymore. Not right then anyway.

 

"I'll get it," he replied and turned toward the man and it was as if a barrier went up between them, segregating the pair from each other. James seemed totally at ease as he paid.

 

"How very gallant of you," Q said, an amused smile on his lips as he watched Bond walk away, pursing his lips together and directing his eyes back to the sea. It was time he considered the best possible way to contact Moneypenny. They needed a passport and an ID and a way to bring Bond back, literally and figuratively. The more they waited, the higher the risk of them getting eliminated in the process.

 

Once the man was back the table, Q looked up at him for a bit before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stood up so the both of them could leave. 

 

James stood up with him and brushed himself down, straining himself up and smiling at the young man beside him. It was a flirtatious, honeyed smile. Ten years ago, they would have been arrested for kissing in public, but now there was a lot more leniency towards homosexuality, and it would give people something to think about. If whoever these people were, got suspicious about Bond spending so much time with this young man.

 

“Would you like me to walk you back?”

There was that smile again, Q thought to himself as he looked at Bond regarding him. He arched one amused brow before smiling back. It was a good thing people were already more or less tolerable of homosexuality, including Asian cultures. To be honest though, the island was filled with mostly Westerners anyway, so not many people actually gave them that much of an odd look.

 

He nodded at the offer as they left,. "Why not?" 

 

He waited until they were wandering alone before James spoke again.

 

“I am sorry about the kiss… It seemed like the best cover for us so we can communicate without too many people asking questions. I hope I have not damaged any commitments that you may have,” James said quietly.

 

Q looked back up at Bond, smiling for a bit despite the situation. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I know it was a necessary move." It was good thinking and quick improvisation on the agent's part, and he knew he possibly wouldn't have thought of it on the spot just like that.

 

"And no," Q chuckled quietly, "I don't have any commitment right now."

Bond seemed to be genuinely surprised by this and he arched an eyebrow at the young man. “Really?” he asked, as they walked side by side. “Why not? Work?” He was being nosey, but he was also clutching desperately at straws.

 

Q was surprised that Bond was asking at all, but he didn't mind it to be honest. There was nothing to hide really. "Yeah, you can say that." He shrugged. "I'm mostly tired by the time I get home every day, and I'd rather pay attention to my two cats—cat." He always forgot about it and referred to his pet in plural form. It sort of reminded him of the conversation he and Bond had while the man had stopped by at the Quartermaster-branch before embarking on that fateful mission.

Bond nodded slowly. He could understand that, in a strange way and he was not sure why he did. “Its easier to be alone… you don’t have to explain anything…” The words were sage, wise beyond this man who had no memory.

 

"Easier to be alone..." Q echoed the words quietly, looking over to where Bond was walking side by side with him, and wondered how would the man handle reabsorbing all of these painful, personal facts of himself, all the people that were close to him that had died... Hell, he didn't even know how the man was taking having to listen to someone else talk about who he had been before some sick bastard drilled a hole into his mind.

 

It was a grim situation to be in.

 

"Well, doesn't necessarily have to be like that really," he replied in the end. "That plus companionship is still nice to have." Q smiled at the man, breathing in a lungful of fresh, salty air that the breeze was carrying in.

James nodded. He could understand that, of all people in the world, he could understand that. “When I first came here,” he said quietly, “the locals were interested in me… I was new and I was living here… then the nightmares started… Soon I was shunned, because they heard my... yelling at night..."

 

"People," Q snorted in disdain. "Drawn by curiosity then stay away from what they don't understand." That was why he preferred to stay with his computers, technology, and cats. It was easier that way, much less complicated. Everything was pretty much straightforward with those things.

 

"It's just your brain trying to piece together your memories and make sense of them." He sighed, remembering how Bond had thrashed around so violently in his sleep the previous night. And the screaming as well... That was something Q wasn't going to forget any time soon, if ever. "Don't worry. We'll try our best to fix that for you," he said, hoping that came out as reassuring as he had wanted it to.

Bond scoffed darkly as they meandered through the town.

 

“No offence, William… but I won’t be letting anyone near my head any time soon.”

 

Q scoffed back himself. "None taken. I understand where you're coming from with that." Who would, after having his head being drilled through? The thought of it alone already made him shiver. "But I think we'll try psychotherapy first to try and see if we can jog your memory without getting physically near your head," he said, a hint of teasing, but partially serious nonetheless. 

 

James nodded with a slight smile. " It would be appreciated, I am sure..." He said dryly.

 

Q laughed. He still remembered Bond's psych evaluation when the man had first emerged back after months of faking his death after being shot down by Moneypenny. Dreadful but funny at the same time, even though he would never admit that aloud. "As I know you would."

 

James felt himself smiling and something in him relaxing... Just a little. It was an easy familiar sense, the urge to tease and annoy this man... Something from their shared pasts, perhaps.

"I should go and recover my boat."

 

It was a good thing to see that Bond was finally relaxing, even just for a bit, around him. Rather satisfying in a way for some reason.

 

Q nodded at the man's suggestion. "Is it far away?" he asked. "Can I come along?" There was a small, coy smile on his lips with more than just a little hint of amusement in it.

 

James let his eyes wander up and down him and he gave a lopsided smile and arched his eyebrows lazily. "It's quite a swim... Are you up for it? I have another snorkel set..." He asked, with just a hint of a challenge there.

 

"What?" Q raised an eyebrow as well, drawing himself up to his full height... which didn't really quite match that of Bond at all either, but that wasn't the point really. "You're doubting my ability?" he countered, feigning a slight bit of offensiveness.

 

"Not that I'll be joining you for too long though..." His eyes wandered to the general direction of his apartment. "I'll be needing some... technical support for this."

 

Bond grinned, the smile turning wicked as he nodded. "Go and get your swim stuff then come in the back door," he said as he went up his steps, sweeping a lizard off his porch with his foot.

 

Q was almost tempted to snort at the wickedness in Bond's grin. "Swim stuff," Q muttered, hurrying away. The moment he was inside, Q turned on his laptop and began sending Moneypenny an encrypted message disguised under the form of an email from one of her usual associates with the most mailing frequency out of the bunch after dispersing the IP address all over the place just so the origin of it couldn't be traced back to them. The message would erase itself once she exited it.

 

That done, he began to actually get his swim stuff as told, put his laptop securely away, and headed over to apartment number one, entering through the back door.

James was already there, standing in swim shorts, bending down over a second set of equipment. There was a mask, flippers and snorkel all ready, and James was cleaning the glass of a second set.

 

Q stopped short at the sight of Bond in swim shorts, bending over a set of equipment and apparently cleaning it up a little. "Ah, I didn't realize we have to change first before coming over." he said casually, pushing the glasses back up his nose. 

 

James glanced up at him and arched an eyebrow. His cold eyes fluttered with something like amusement, and he looked back down. "Unless you plan to swim in your clothes... We can stick too the shallows - it's a longer swim but it's more scenic... You might as well get something from the flight around the world."

 

"You're saying as if I originally didn't really plan on any sightseeing upon coming." Q straightened up. Well, his plan had, more or less, lots of room for... flexibility. Yes, flexibility. "I'll be borrowing your loo for a moment then if you don't mind." He was already heading there even as he said that anyway.

 

“You don’t strike me as one for mingling with the locals,” Bond called. There were two different types of travellers. Those who went to a place and seemed to blend in, become part of the furnishings. This man, this boy was the other type… the ones that stuck out like a flamingo. This… Q was of the latter variety.

 

"One can never tell," Q replied back as he took off his shirt and kicked off his trousers before putting on his swimming shorts. "I'm mingling with you right now, aren't I?" He poked back out, holding his bundle of clothes, feeling awkward and exposed in this getup. "Shouldn't that count for something?" He chuckled in amusement.

 

"I suppose - you can leave your stuff here," he nodded too the couch that looked more worn than the bed which was just visible through the gauzy curtains. How many nights had he fallen asleep here rather than in the bed. He picked up one of the sets of flippers and tossed it too him. "Have you snorkeled before?" 

 

Q nodded and put his clothes down to the suggested worn couch, arranging his shoes neatly at its foot. It looked even more used than the bed itself, and somehow, the thought of Bond flopping down and falling asleep here more often that he did his bed didn't quite surprise him, not by much anyway.

 

He perked up at Bond's question, just in time to barely catch the pair of flippers that were thrown his way before they all but crash into his face. "For the sake of both of our safety, I'm going to say, 'no.'" Swimming, yes; but no for snorkeling. Q gave the other man a sheepish, close-lipped smile.

 

James nodded sagely, and inclined his head. He took Q out to the beach and into the water which was nice and warm, and started to instruct on the basics. How to swim with flippers, how to dove without getting a mouthful of seawater. “You getting all this?”

 

Q touched the pair of glasses perching on the bridge of his nose and sighed before taking them off and leaving them on the nightstand. Not that his eyesight was  too poor, but then, the masks couldn't really fit over them anyway, so what was the point? With that, he followed Bond to the beach, blinking and squinting a bit to adjust his eyes, and listened to all of the man instructions regarding the basics, which weren't actually that hard to grasp.

 

"Absorbing like a sponge," he joked and laughed but sobered up soon enough and cleared his throat. "Just don't swim off too fast is all I'm asking." 

 

James nodded and waded in up to his waist, before raising one leg to put the flipper on.

 

“Did you trust me? Before?” he asked, the question obvious. In their previous life together, had Q trusted James.

 

He followed Bond into the water and copied the man's action. The only thing was that what was waist-level water for the agent stopped short of touching the lowest point of his ribs.

 

Q did, however, paused a little upon hearing the man's question. "Well, I did risk my brilliant career prospect in espionage for you by doing a few unauthorized things..." he feigned amusement, but the smile he gave Bond was genuine, nonetheless. "So yes, I do trust you." And he was using the present tense verb. 

 

James smiled and there was something like pride as he slowly sunk into the water, pulling the mask over his eyes and the mouthpiece between his lips. He held up the thumb and forefinger, asking if he was okay.

 

Q looked at the smile for as long as he could, musing over the sense of pride he noticed there, before Bond turned himself away and sank below the cerulean, crystal-clear water. Q followed him almost immediately.

 

The bleariness eased somewhat under the slight magnification of the water, something for which he was glad, and he caught Bond's sign out of the corner of his eye. Barely. Q nodded and raised a thumb up, swimming closer to the other man, let he lost sight of him.

True to his word, Bond stayed glued to his side, swimming beside him and pointing things out. Shoals of fish darted past them, and Bond stayed close, as they got into deeper waters.

 

Q was glad that Bond really did stick with him as promised. Not that he had actually doubted the man, of course. And he was amazed by the sort of beauty that was then surrounding the two of them, and he was beginning to understand people's sort of obsession with taking pictures as these were capture-worthy moments. Beautiful.

 

Eventually he surfaced with a gasp. They were in a large cove, surrounded by high cliff sides. In the centre was a boat. James swam over to it. "Do you want to get in?"

 

His lungs were burning by the time they emerged, and Q broke through the surface seconds after Bond with a loud gasp himself. The waves were lulling him back and forth, and he was glad, more than ever before, that he was a decent swimmer.

 

Once he recomposed himself, he swam after the agent. "Back to shore?" He asked back, mind reeling back to the email he had sent to Moneypenny. But well, there was hardly much of anything he could do about it right then anyway. The rest, technical wise, had to rely on the London side now.

"Not yet," he looked down through the water. "I set down lobster and crab cages this morning," he pointed down through the crystal waters. "You can wait in the boat if you like, or swim around."

 

Q mused over the options for a moment, having forgotten about the cages, and nodded in contemplation. "Boat for now, I think." With that, he tried to climb on to the boat, wanting to get out of the water for a bit.

 

James trod water gently and helped him into the boat. He pulled it down so Q could swing a leg in, and held it steady, as he tried to push the young man up and in.

 

Should he be embarrassed that he couldn't quite get into the boat by himself? Maybe not, it was too bumpy and unsteady as it was. But he appreciated that Bond was helping him with holding the boat down and steady for him to swing a leg in and everything.

 

By the time he was in, Q was even more tired than he was while snorkeling under the water. But at least he was in, and that alone was a blessing. "Thank you," he said, taking off the mask from his eyes.

 

James grinned from the edge of the boat, a slight teasing smile as he reached into the boat for a knife, and pulled the mouthpiece out from the mask, tossing it into the boat. The knife was strapped to his thigh.

 

"Get comfortable," he said as he took several sharp, deep breaths and then dived, sending a splash of water over the man in the boat as he swam to the sea floor.

 

Just Bond's teasing smile alone already made Q feel embarrassed enough as it was even though he was determined not to be. The knife that the man took gleamed in the light before he strapped it to his thigh.

 

He barely had time to catch the quick words before Bond was diving back under the water, sending a splash up the boat. "Hey!" he exclaimed with a hint of a laugh. There was no way he could actually avoid that bit of water. "You did that on purpose!" Well, he wasn't really sure, per se, but there were other ways for Bond to go at this instead of jumping straight back down like that, and he was going to hold on to that idea.

 

James swam down, his form lean and strong below the cerulean waves. The water was clear and he was comfortable holding his breath for the time it took to grab one of the baskets in each hand. He could feel the weight of them as he surfaced and glanced down to see large claws that protruded out. He surfaced by the edge of the boat and slung one in… and then the other.

 

Q's eyes roamed around the cove where their boat was to satisfy his own curiosity before turning his gaze back down to the sloshing sea. The water was clear enough for him to vaguely make out Bond's figure there, and truly, even though the thought had crossed his mind briefly before (and was then making a rather stark, distinct come back), the man had a really strong and lean body—the suits obviously had served to soften out the edges of his frames, if only to make it seem more tamed.

 

Quickly, Bond was emerging again, slugging in one cage after the other.

 

"Wow," Q looked at the large claws through slightly squinting eyes. Even without his glasses, he knew those were big ones there. "Nice catch," he said, impressed.

 

Bond grinned as he held the edge of the boat. He kicked gently and it barely seemed to disturb the water, he stayed nice and level. “Just be careful of the big ones… they lock on if they catch a finger or your toes…”He twisted in the water and plunged back in. 

 

"As if I'd be touching them any time soon," Q said, looking at the big claws poking out from the cages. Bond was talking as though he was a kid who couldn't help his own curiosity or something. He looked at the man with one raised eyebrow, watching as he move fluidly in the water as though he was part of it before the blond man dove once more under water.

 

Seconds later, he reached for his borrowed mask again, put it on, and dipped his face under the water, observing Bond going at it more clearly than before. He didn't really have anything else better to do.

 

James moved in the water like he was part of it, curling and flowing as if he belonged to the sea. He didn't know that he did, didn't know that he had been in the Navy. He rose again with two more baskets and then another two. When he rose for the fourth time, he pulled himself up into the boat, far more elegantly than Q had.

 

Q watched Bond for a long while before deciding to just sit back and looked up at the high sky above. His blank mind began to be filled up with images and words from the 007's case file, and sighed.

 

When Bond came back and climbed back into the boat with such ease, he couldn't help but roll his eyes for a bit. "Are those all of it?" It really wasn't a question. His eyes surveying the cages. "Quite a good catch."  

 

"It's not bad," he agreed. It wasn't his best by far, but that wasn't the point, was it. He watched the sea creatures scramble desperately, trying to get free. It was this cove, they were protected from predators and sharp waves at the same time.

 

With his eyes anywhere but Q, he began to row. The lack of sleep, he was starting to feel now and he was well aware of the slight shake in his muscles... The ache in his limbs... But the more he tried to focus, the more he became drawn to watch him.

 

He had no clue why.

 

Q nodded at the answer and asked nothing more, knowing that he didn't know enough about this to actually comment much on whether this was a good catch or not. To him, it was, but Bond had been at this for... probably almost as long as he had been here, so of course the man would know more about it than him. There was no point in such a debate.

 

Instead, he allowed his eyes to wander—the cove, the water, the waves, the sky... anything but the blonde man before him and how he was rowing the boat against the current, knowing exactly where to go and what to do as though everything had been ingrained so deep into his mind that it had become second nature already. That might more likely be the case, he supposed.

 

His fingers were tapping against the wooden surface in a meaningless patterns, resembling that of when he was typing away at his keyboard, or twitching sometimes like when he was gripping his pencils and working on a design. Vacation wasn't sitting well with him, the hours spent whiling time away made him antsy and anxious, and the more he thought about it, the more he knew something shady was going on here with Nine Eyes and C and everyone involved in this new godforsaken system.

 

The email he had sent Moneypenny was hovering before his blurry vision again, and Q screwed his eyes shut for a long second before focusing his attention back on Bond, whose muscles then were slightly shaking... Or at least he thought so because he couldn't very well tell with two of his other prescribed eyes missing from action. That could might as well be just mere muscles flexing. "You need any help?" he asked, visually trailing the lines of silvery scars on the other man's bare torso. As visually as it could get, that is. 

 

Licking his lips, Bond looked up at him. He was small, scrawny in kind of a young and innocent way, and he was... Fascinating. Perhaps it was because Q had all the knowledge and he had none. He made himself look above those eyes.

 

"It's fine..." He said with a weak smile. "Put it this way... I've had ten hours sleep since the weekend. Just tired."

 

Q tilted his head a little, still squinting and trying to see what sort of expression Bond was having there. But the drying water on his face as well as the bright sunlight wasn't allowing his limited sight the leisure, so he just gave up and swore to himself that he would either rent or buy one of those optical snorkel mask later on should they ever feel like doing this again because not seeing things clearly was setting his teeth on edge.

 

He paused a little at Bond's answer though, blearily seeing the weak quirk of those lips. "Somehow, I think you double-ohs have a penchant for pushing yourself to the limit," he muttered, more to himself than anything to be honest. "I know you must be tired," he continued, louder this time and aiming it at the other man. "That's why I'm offering help."

 

Bond quirked his head to the side, ignoring the comment about the tiredness. He was always tired… always. It was just one of those things that he was, but it seemed to be the case when you had very little sleep.

 

He huffed. He was getting sarcastic with himself. Instead, he replied with a question,

 

“Double-oh?”

 

Q looked up blinking, realizing a fraction later that the man had no idea what a double-oh meant, as it should be. For a moment there, a surge of something unfathomable welled up inside of him, almost like a gaping black hole, as he wondered how horrible it must be not knowing who you were, where you had come from, how you had come to be in this strange place, and if there were even anyone out there waiting for you.

 

Suddenly, the hard lines and severe expression on the face of their previous M clouded his mind for a moment, and Q shook the visage away.

 

"Double-oh." He nodded in confirmation. "It was a programme in MI6 participated by experienced field agents who help us solve certain... difficult situations both nationally and internationally." That was the light way of putting it, to be honest. Double-ohs had short life spans, hence the reason why they were replaced very frequently and had to be hand picked by M—to make sure the agents were good so their life expectancy on average would actually go up. This data had yet been confirmed, of course. "You were one of those agents, James. 007 was your code name."

 

Closing his eyes for a long moment, James looked down at his bare feet as he leant forward and pulled back on the ores, pushing back, pushing them through the water. He couldn’t quite meet Q’s eyes and he stared above his head.

 

“Double-oh Seven…” he repeated and his hands shook. “That’s… catchy?”

 

"That's one way of putting it," Q said quietly, sighing and trying not to linger on the overwhelmed expression on Bond's face. Needless to say, it was a dangerous job occupation. Anything related to espionage was.

 

"That grey haired woman you said you dreamed of last night... She was M." He cleared his throat. "She was the one who picked and promoted you up to that position." 

 

Ouch. That was a blow to his ego, and he frowned as he rowed, fixing his gaze on the sky beyond him, gazing into the distance.

 

"I thought... She was my mother..." He scoffed a little, self loathing in his words.

 

"Well," Q replied, no judgmental or cruel hint in his voice. "Perhaps she was, in certain ways." Harsh love she had for him, to be precise. "She had always trusted you to get the job done."

 

She had been a mother figure to him, in one way or another. He had dreamed about her for a long time, for as long as he could remember and he had always had a strange affection for her. He remembered her blood in his hands... He remembered the guilt.

 

"Perhaps I'm not the best person to talk about this as I've only worked under her for a short while," Q flexed his hands, and honestly, he had only ever spoken directly to her on handful of occasions. But beneath all the harsh words and decisions, her care for Bond had never been lost in translation, not to him.

 

"She is no longer M though... An agent gone rogue killed her," his voice was quiet as he continued, and Q clenched his jaws somewhat. This was as personal to him as it was to anyone who had been involved, but that really was no comparison to what Bond must have gone through, having countered most of that heads on with her. "Raoul Silva was his name."

 

Not that he was trying to bring back bad memories, but Bond needed this, and no matter how cruel it might sound, the more hurtful and impacted an event, the more of an imprint it left. And Q was more or less aiming for that, that jolt which could possibly help Bond recover what he had been drilled out of his mind. 

 

His hand jerked on the ore, a spasm as something went through him on that name... Followed by pain. Memory was like a muscle in the body, it needed training and cultivation. Q had effectively dropped dumbbells on his memory and told him to lift.

 

He shuddered, because a face came through with that name. A blonde man... A mad man... Who had touched his knee, offered him something. He had been... Tempted? He had been tempted to take the man up on his offer.

 

"A blonde man..." He whispered. "Light hair... He was insane... In a glass prison... He escaped..." His hand went to his head as he strained for the memories. "I chased him. I chased him through London... You told me to get on the train."

 

Q observed and listened to Bond as he would observe and listen to the whirring engine of a dismantled machine that he was trying to assemble together once more, careful and watchful, to pick up what was right and which part was missing from its entirety that caused it to malfunction in the first place. Not that he was comparing Bond to a machine, of course. Just the process of attempting to 'fix' him.

 

He nodded, the waves rocking their boat, and his eyes trailed over to the red lobsters that were raising up their claws, going for a sort of intimidation, while crawling somewhat on top one another in their cages.

 

"He was insane," he muttered, a particular image with a red gaping skull hovering at the forefront of his mind.

 

"NOT SUCH A CLEVER BOY."

 

Q chuckled with a bit of mirth. "Yes, I did tell you to get on that train. You were chasing him down to the London Underground." He still remembered the cleaning crew bitching about the train that they had to retrieved after Silva derailed it with a bomb.

 

But that wasn't the point right then, and he took in a deep breath and looked back up. "Anyway, clearly, your memory is still there, albeit in fragments. We will try to see if we can piece them together into chains."  Or if the rest of it is already gone, was what he didn't say aloud. 

 

James turned to look at him with a gaze that seemed to be haunted by something. Haunted by a thought, an idea that terrified him.

 

What if he could not get his memory back?

 

He had lived here for a while now and had become reasonably comfortable with the idea that he would be here for the rest of his days… Now, it had all changed.

 

Bond grunted and started to row with more power, until they came to the beach… and he drove them up and onto the sand, just down from there apartments.

 

There were things that he could still make out even without his glasses, and Bond's haunted expression right then was one of those. Q knew his revelation to the man had all but flipped his world downside-up once more, and there were clutters that needed to be cleared away and organized. However, there was no telling for sure the chances of Bond actually getting back all of his memory. As a whole, that was. Bits and pieces here and there remained there, that much they had found out, so he wasn't particularly worry about that.

 

He was no expert. Hell, he hadn't a clue about how he should proceed with this. That was why Q didn't offer a reassurance to the man before him. He couldn't. Dishing out hope that had no sustainable platform only to have it collapsed on top of Bond later on was not something he would ever do.

 

Not too long afterward, they were back on the beach, and Q got off the boat to help Bond, glad that he wasn't too far away from his other two eyes. Contact lenses were not the solution for him, unfortunately, not when he was almost constantly looking at the bright screen of either his computer, his laptop, his tablet, or whatever else technological that was involved with work. 

 

Bond turned away from him, and it was as if the walls were sky high. “You don’t have to stay,” was code speak for  ‘Please, leave me the fuck alone,’ Because he really needed the time to gather his thoughts and to think. He licked his lips and he turned back to him.

 

“Its best that I finish up on my own,” he lied. “Go and relax. You're on holiday.”

 

Q looked at Bond, stoic with the sort of barely kept together impassiveness the man had drawn over his face, and frowned at the "you're on holiday" dismissive trick. The sand was sticking to his feet, slipping between his toes, and grinding against his skin.

 

Nodding once and turning away, he muttered, "My holiday had already ended before it even started," to himself and walked straight back to his apartment. 

 

In the apartment, Q’s phone was vibrating. It went off… and then started vibrating again.

 

Q slipped the key, which he had left under one of those rocks out in the garden (out of habit and a nagging paranoia that he would somehow lose his key somewhere if he didn't have a sort of familiar place to hide it while going out), into its hole and unlocked the door just in time to hear his phone vibrating. Everything inside was exactly where he had left it, he noticed, just as he reached for his phone and saw "Moneypenny" in the caller ID.

 

Pursing his lips, Q headed back out the door again, not trusting the walls at all, and only answered it when he was out near the unoccupied part of the beach but still a distance away from where Bond was supposed to be finishing his 'business' off.

 

"Yes, Miss Moneypenny?" he answered, praying to God that she still had the sense of mind to remember that her call to Bond back when 009's car had yet been plunged head first down into a river had been recorded by Nine Eyes. She was not by far a fool, but people could slip sometimes when they were in a rush. 

 

“Q,” Said Moneypenny and there was something like relief in her voice, along with that familiar sensual purr of hers. “How are you? How is Bali?” She asked… there was the sound of tapping on her end, and the phone muffled as she held it too her chest.

 

Q closed his eyes in relief at the casual questions from her end and licked his lips. "Hot is about enough to sum it all up," he replied casually, hearing the tapping as well. "I should have brought more sunscreen." And perhaps sleeping pills, too.

 

“Okay, the block is up. We have about a minute before they realise that it’s an old conversation. Are you sure it's 007?” She asked, the purr gone. She was all business.

 

When the tapping stopped, he wasn't surprised at the shift in her voice. "One hundred percent," he replied, not missing a beat. "Which is why I need you help me arrange a safe way to get him out of here as fast as you can." He forewent the explanation, knowing that they didn't have the time right then to be discussing such a thing. "Be careful yourself. Nine Eyes has probably gotten something to do with this as well because he's practically out in plain sight under the sun, and they still pretend that he's dead."

 

"How is this even possible? Is he alright?" James and Eve Moneypenny had a steady, good friendship. You don't shoot someone off a bridge without developing a fondness for them. "I informed Tanner and M, they are both here now."

 

"Well for a man whose brain had been drilled into," Q said, disgusted still at the thought. He couldn't help his brain from associating this with the drilling sound that often sounded in the office of a dentist. "His cognition and motor skills remain intact, but his memory is scrambled. He can recall bits and pieces through the dreams that he has during the night and the information baits I give him, but not much more than that just yet."

 

So Tanner and M knew. "I don't believe he sleeps well, though, but more important than that right now is that I believe he is being monitored." He paused, gripping his phone tighter. "I don't think they suspect much of anything right now, but the sooner we get out of here, the better."

 

There was a sharp intake of breath from the line on his phone. "They... Drilled into his brain?" There was a question there and then the sound of a heated, dangerous conversation in the background.

 

"If you’re right then London may not be the best place for him, Q - you know what it's like. Can you prepare a cover story for you and email it? I'll make the passports."

 

Q's expression was grim. "They did. On the right side of his brain, most probably aligning to where the Hippocampus should be. But it's safe to assume that there's no damage to the left side yet since his memory functioning, other than information relating to facts, is more or less okay." He could hear M hissing a soft curse in the background and suddenly felt quite an urge to show Bond this conversation, if only to let the man know that there remained people out there who cared very much for the man's well-being.

 

Q pursed his lips, wanting almost to object as all of their most advanced technology (which could most probably help Bond) was there, but this was not logic that could be argued with. "A cover story for the both of us? Sure. I'll get it back to you as soon as I can."

 

"You need to keep him under the radar as far as you can," M was in the line now, stern and in control. "We will get back to you and prepare a safe house and anything you feel you need. Send secure it all securely to Moneypenny."

 

The line went dead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as things are getting… interesting, the rating of this has gone up!
> 
> Hope you enjoy my happy place as much as we do - LR

Q lowered the phone, and let out a sigh. He was assuming that keeping Bond under the radar meant continuing keeping the 'supervisors' clueless of the fact that he was more or less aware of his situation now. Biting his lip, he gripped his phone tightly and headed back to where their apartments were. Now, where was Bond? He needed his glasses. 

 

The boat was empty, and the causation nets were empty. Footsteps could be followed through the sand, up to the back of the house... And then back around to the front.

 

Bond had taken his catch and gone into the town.

 

The door was locked, and Q stood there, freshly changed, and cursed at himself for having even leaving his glasses back at Bond's place, for even leaving it anywhere but near his sight at all.

 

Rolling his eyes and sighing, he turned on the doorstep and followed the blurry path Bond had pointed out for him that led to town, careful not to stray elsewhere. Once there, he began wandering around, asking himself where the blonde man could be among the afternoon crowd. People were coming out more and more from their hiding places once the intense heat of the day had somewhat retreated in preparation for dusk's arrival, and Q was beginning to think that they had quite rotten luck, to be perfectly honest, especially when men with blonde short blonde hair was littering all over the place.

 

Eventually though, he managed to find out Bond's direction after asking a few people some questions. 

 

He was directed to a private bar on the beach. People danced on the beach, men and women dancing and drinking. There was a figure sitting at the bar... Watching.

 

Shadows danced on Bond’s face as he watched them. More than one woman tried to catch his eye... But his eyes were firmly on the sunset as he sipped whiskey.

 

It really didn't surprise him at all that much when they directed him to a bar to be honest, Q thought to himself. Go figure. What did surprise him was how quickly he spotted Bond among the wildly wiggling bodies. For God's sake, the sun wasn't even fully down just yet.

 

He made his way there soon enough and sat down on a stool at the bar next to the blonde man. "James," he said, in a way of greeting. Also because 'Bond' would be downright disastrous. 

 

"William," was his terse reply as he finished his drink and held out his glass for a second. He turned and his eyes fell on the dancing, writhing bodies on the beach.

 

Not in the mood for talking then. Q deemed to himself when the bartender came over and asked what he would like to drink. He ordered himself one of those low alcohol spritzers and turned back to the man next to him, the dying light not helping his vision. It wasn't until the barman came back with their drinks that he picked up his cold glass and continued.

 

"My friends just called."  Please, understand what I'm insinuating here.  "And they say it's a miracle I've managed to find a partner such as yourself barely on my second day in Bali," he said. "Even told me to keep you close since it might turn out to be more than just a fling." Q turned to Bond, pasting a coy smile on his lips. God, this was why he was  not a field agent. 

 

So he was being told to keep close to Q... To hang out with him, and keep under the radar when him.

 

His smile warmed and relaxed a little before he inclined it slightly. So he had to make it look like he was interested, did he?

 

"Then perhaps I should come back to your apartment later..." He said, voice taking in a slight lilt.

 

Thank God. Q thought to himself, watching as warmth spread on the man's smile. He was half-expecting either another clueless face from Bond or utter disgust.

 

Q smiled as well. "What sort of person I'd be if I were to decline that?" He raised his glass. "I can show you lots of interesting things."

 

Bond raised a suggestive eyebrow and leaned into Q. For a moment, it looked as if James was going to kiss him... But he moved past to his ear.

 

"Bad idea... I'll keep you up all night..." Bond breathed.

 

Q's eyes widened for a fraction when Bond leaned in, his mind reeling back to that unexpected kiss earlier at the restaurant. But it wasn't a kiss, fortunately so, and he fought not to squirm when the man's hot breath brushed over his skin.

 

Instead, he leaned in and whispered in kind, "I don't think I'd mind." His smile quirked into a small smirk, amusing himself with the situation at hand. "After all, I'm used to pulling all-nighters." Not for anything of the nature they were implying here, but it didn't really matter to be honest.  

 

Bond’s chuckle was low, rich and full of sensual warmth. He was putting on a show. Touching his hand, he spoke. "I am talking about the fact that I talk a lot in my sleep... You don't want to have to wake me up a dozen times and get back into bed..."

 

Q felt a bit of heat rushed up his cheeks, but he cleared his throat and licked his lips, Bond's low chuckle rumbling from the man's chest vibrating in the small gap of space between them. "Noted," he said, trying not to twitch the hand Bond was holding. "But honestly, between the two of us, I believe we will manage to find a solution if you start talking too loudly and disrupt my beauty sleep."

 

Again that wicked laughter and with a brush of his mouth on Q's jaw, Bond drew back slowly, and lifted his drink, and then he was turning back to watch the people here. Those who had a good time, those who came because all they had to worry about was their jobs when they got home.

 

He had to remember who he was... What he was...

 

Q's stomach clenched a little at the wickedness in the laughter that was then seeping into his ears, the perfect pretense of foreshadowing events that would not actually happen. For a moment there, he wondered if Bond were disgusted, having to remain close and feigning as though he was in a relationship with another man. But maybe not, this was a pretty dire situation after all, and one couldn't be picky with survival methods—as long as they didn't stretch the moral boundaries too thin, of course. They of all people should be well aware of that, and even without his memory, Q was sure Bond understood the notion himself.

 

He cleared his throat (the phantom touch of Bond's brush of mouth against his jaw lingered), sipped his drink, and turned to look out at the dancing people, too, people who were actually enjoying their holidays as they should be. Suddenly, he felt a little melancholy—his one month of saved up vacation days, and this was how he was spending it. Splendid.

 

But well, Q shooed the sarcastic voice away quickly enough as his eyes fluttered over to where Bond was, sitting there and contemplating his circumstance most probably, and sighed mentally. They had yet to think of an actual, plausible, preferably professional way to bring the man's memory back. Hell, he hadn't even thought of a cover story for the both of them... This was something best to ask for Bond's opinions later just so he could give the man at least a shred of control in this entire ordeal.

 

Bond’s thoughts, as it were, were on that cover story. In the words that this friend had said... He needed to remain under the raider at the moment. If he was a local, then he should be showing William Solomon a good time and making their so called relationship look plausible.

 

He gulped down his drink and stood up and held out his hands. " Come on... Going to teach you how to dance..."

 

Q was only halfway through his drink and he stared a little surprised at Bond's sudden invitation and beckoning hands. Blinking, he finished his spritzer as well, wincing a little at the brain freeze that it gave him for swallowing down something too cold too quickly, and stood up, taking those hands despite himself.

 

"What makes you think I don't know how to dance?" Q asked, raising one quizzical smile, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

Letting his eyes wander over Q, he arched an eyebrow. "I didn't have you pegged as to one who enjoyed the bump and grind. I look forward to being proved wrong," he teased.

 

Q scowled, but not really so, at that once over from the agent. "Show me what's your proper 'bump and grind' is all about then," he said, hinting a challenge, because while everybody was out partying, he was tinkering away with his little machinery and whatnot. Bond's assumption wasn't wrong, but he'd be damned to actually admit that aloud to that teasing man. 

 

With a smirk, James took his hand and guided it to his chest as he started to dance, leading Q onto the floor.

 

Q bit the insides of his cheeks as Bond pressed his hand to the man's chest, and began to follow his lead to dance. His steps and movements were a little stiff and awkward, as expected anyway, but he wasn't fazed (why would he anyway when he had faced up to challenge much more heinous than this?), and didn't look away. Nervous and slightly embarrassed, yes, but not much else beyond that. 

 

"What would you be doing in Bali if you hadn't had the misfortune to meet me?" He called over the sound of drumming music.

 

Q scoffed at the word "misfortune" Bond used, and contemplated the answer. "Snorkeling, going to the beach, sightseeing..." His voice trailed off somewhat. "Probably ending up catching an early flight home, to be honest," he chuckled softly with a shrug. "So maybe it's not quite a 'misfortune' after all."

 

"So now you get to dance with someone who speaks your language, and Indonesian. You get to see all the best spots, and have company while you do it. Have your holiday prospects changed?"

 

"Self-promotion much?" Q drawl, but amused despite himself. "Considering how I initially didn't have much hope for it when the flight was delayed for three hours," not to mention the fact flying didn't exactly sit well with him, "I suppose that yes, my holiday prospects have indeed changed. Such a dear that you are, James," he teased, a smirk on his lips.

 

James had the distinct sense that he was missing something here, and he had no clue what it was... But instead of worrying about it, his eyes flicked around in a sense of awareness that he was unused too.

 

"We are being watched..." He breathed after a moment.

 

Q didn't have the trained, almost inherent, keen sense of surrounding that Bond had, but he was already on edge as it was, with everything that was going on, and so wasn't at all  that surprised upon catching the words the other man whispered.

 

"Go figure," Q muttered softly under his breath. How were they supposed to handle this? Normally, Bond would know, but would he still know then even with his memory damaged? "Just... stay close to me and act natural. They haven't touched my laptop yet, so it's just mere suspicion for now." He had linked certain programmes from between laptop and phone. Should anyone try to breach the his security system while he were away, it would automatically wipe all data from the hard drive and send a signal to his phone. Seeing as nothing had happened, the worst had yet to come. 

 

James hummed an affirmative and stepped closer to Q, wrapping his arms around him slowly. "Have you eaten?" He asked softly as they danced to the drum beats.

 

Q couldn't say he was surprised when Bond pulled that move, their bodies close and only inches away. The music was almost a hypnotic lull. "Not yet. I don't suppose you have either?" 

 

"I'm not hungry," he said quietly, as they danced together.

 

"Me, neither," he whispered, his eyes darting around to see who was watching that seemed overly suspicious. 

 

James stepped closer and put a hand in his spine. His fingers spread slowly and he sucked in a slow breath. " You need to eat... It's hot and you don't want to get sick. ."

 

Bond's hand on his back and spreading over his spine, each fingertips pressing to his skin and flesh, made his breath catch for a little. He didn't expect the intense heat. Nor such a proximity. "You're one to talk," he drawled with raised eyebrows.

 

He snorted. He could feel eyes on them as they danced to the rhythmic primal drumbeat and more than one person around them had lost the will to dance and was dragging their partner back to one of the apartments. "I'm local... Used to the heat. You’re... Small. Thin."

 

Q had spotted at least two suspicious looking blokes lounging around the dance floor with their gaze lingering on the two of them a tad longer than it was necessary for it to just be something accidental in nature. Honestly, though? It was the very heat, aside from the situation itself, that was stopping him from eating. It didn't make him feel hungry at all, to be honest.

 

He did snort back, however, because the way Bond was saying it made him feel like he was such a frail, fragile creature or something. "I do keep hydrated and munch on some snacks, so don't worry." Really though, it didn't seem like the tropical weather was agreeing to him. He should've have known really, the drought England suffered from once in awhile should've already been an abundant warning as it stood. 

 

James hummed, a liquid, throaty sound and licked his lips a little as they danced to the rhythm. The sun had set by now and the air was cooler. James hands moved over him... Intimate and personal, like he was on the verge of pouncing on the boy.

 

Q tried holding back a shiver but couldn't, being touched like this was a very strange thing, and Bond's hands were hot now in the cooling air after sunset. That humming sound the man made vibrating between the barely there space between them both and tingling at Q's nerve ends.

 

A surge of heat was rising up the nape of his neck. "So... my friends need a story from us to create our background..." he whispered, clearing his throat and leaning in closer until his lips were inches away from the man's ear. This was a good opportunity as any he supposed. "Any thought on that?"

 

Bond made a small, rather deep sound that seemed to vibrate through his chest, but his heart was pounding. "The reason that we are going home tougher?" He asked softly

 

That pounding was not lost on Q, considering the closeness of their bodies, and he wondered if part of it were his own as well. Somehow, the soft way Bond said "home" weighed down on his insides. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he,  they , couldn't give this to the man. Not just yet. "Not necessarily home," he replied. "But yes, the reason why we are traveling anywhere together at all."

 

Bond stiffened as if he sensed the answer... And he withdrew from Q. He pulled back, and the walls closed in around him as he realised that he couldn't go home... Not yet at least. He could not remember home but it was… hard. Painful.

 

It hurt. It hurt badly to be teased with answers.

 

He stepped back from the hacker and he felt sick. "Goodnight, William."

 

Q's eyes widened when Bond pulled back and stepped away. What was going on? But it didn't take him long to realize  what was wrong—the hurt was evident in those normally icy blue eyes, and so was the disgust.

 

"James—" The melody reached its height, the drums and all other musical instruments sounding together in a unison whole, loud and piercing. He reached out for the man's hand, squeezing it. "I—I want to bring you home, too, but they say it's not safe." His mind was reeling. Why was he doing this in the first place? Why elaborate at all when Bond himself had previously raised his own concerns about returning to London, of all places, as well?

 

"If it's what  you  want though... we can go home." Bond's face was blurry, but there was something about this... something that told him not to let go. 

 

It was too late though, James had shut down from him. An old defence mechanism, but a classic one of James Bloody Bond. Closing off from emotions, shutting them away until he felt nothing.

 

He pulled his hand away, his face a closed off mask.

 

"I said goodnight, Will," he turned and made his way out of the bodies, sinking into the sand a little as he resisted the urge to run.

 

Q stood there, frozen to the spot as he watched the man slipped away from the crowd, the music receding in the background. For some reason, he felt shaken to the core and didn't even pay attention to the people who were pushing against him in their wild dancing.

 

"You fucking arse," he muttered under his breath and turned sharply on his heel, heading straight to the bar and sat himself down onto a stool.

 

He was so angry he forgot all about his glasses he had left at Bond's place, but what infuriated him even more was the fact that he had know idea where or whom to direct this anger to. He didn't even know for sure why he was feeling angry in the first place. This whole ordeal wasn't his bloody fault now, was it?! Then why—

 

Why did Bond have to pull such an expression on him? As though he had been the fraud orchestrating this sick game, taunting him from start to finish.

 

He ordered another beer on a whim and left with it after paying. 

 

*

 

James stalked back to his home and slammed the door, locking it and turning on the air con... Then he spotted the pile of clothes that Q had left.

 

He carried them out and left them on the porch, glasses on top, before going back to his and closing the door, whacking the air con on full.

 

*

 

Q abandoned the beer halfway through, having never been fond of the bitter taste it left in the mouth. He cursed under his breath and found a bin to trash it before heading back to his own apartment, avoiding number one like the plague, before coming across his pile of clothes right at the porch, his glasses glinting under the moon on top of it.

 

Tsk. He didn't even have the decency to return it in person or something. Wonderful.

 

He bent down and picked the whole thing up, short of shoving his glasses onto the bridge of his nose (inwardly glad to see the world come into focus again) before swinging the door open and slamming it shut. James fucking Bond. The bane of his existence or something.

 

His holiday prospect had changed, indeed. 

 

*

 

James managed to settle into a restless sleep, and dropped into a deep one that was plagued with dreams and nightmares.

 

He gave up and went outside.

 

The moon was high and waxing, spreading light. He settled in the sand and lay back, listening to the waves, letting them lul him.

 

Q, on the other hand, didn't bother sleeping, knowing it would be futile. He'd rather spend his night, his annoyance and frustration, as well as his newly regained eyesight to better use. Like hacking into the satellite to see if he could get a better footage of that facility in Morocco, just to he could see whether it would offer anymore information or not. Nothing so far though, but he refused to let his thought wander back to Bond because he had had enough of being the one having to approach the man for one day. Needing to be alone was one thing, he could understand that, but what happened back at the bar just then? No. He didn't understand, and he didn't want to, not right then.

 

As for the cover story. Sure, he could make up one, but James fucking Bond's opinions must be accounted for as well, so he'd rather wait than to go ahead and put it whatever it was that he wanted. 

 

*

 

He was awake. James knew he was awake, he could see the movement behind the frame, the flickering lights. Cranking his his head back, he watched the lights flicker as Q moved and then... He gave in.

 

Why had he walked away? Because he felt vulnerable... Felt scared half to death and this boy was the only link he has to who he was, to what he was... He rose and shook the sand off before going slowly towards the place, up the three steps.

 

He raised a hand to knock.

 

The attack came from the left and the punch clipped his jaw. He staggered, and fell against the wall with a thud, as his brain caught up with the fact that he had just been punched in the face.

 

He saw the light reflect off something metal. 

 

Instinct kicked in and Bond went for the gun...

 

The knock came, and so did the commotion. Q should have known, it had been too quiet.

 

His wide eyes snapped to the door, startled by the loud noise, just as he snatched his phone and shoved it into his pocket and ran out, snapping shut his laptop. "James!"

 

Amid the darkness, the gun gleamed dangerously, and shit, what was he supposed to do?!

 

The second one came through the window, probably wanting to neutralize them both, smashing the glass and seizing Q by the nape of his shirt before wrestling him to the floor.

 

Air almost knocked out of his lungs, Q gave a choked gasped as he winced and grimaced at the feeling of the sharp glass edges digging into his torso just before a knee came digging into his back, trying to stationing him in place.

 

Fuck, he wasn't going to die like this. And Q struggled, blearily reaching for one shard and embedding it deep into the perpetrator's flesh. The bastard gave a loud yelp and relinquished his hold, giving him enough room to crawl away and flip back on his back, kicking the killer in stomach. 

 

The sound of the gunshot rang in the night air. Somewhere, in the jungle, a scream rang out. James stepped into the room and pointed the gun at the head of the one who had Q.

 

James fired again, dashing his brains against the floor.

 

It was cold. A cold kill... Until his hands began to shake.

 

Q's body gave a jerk at each of the gunshot, more so with the last one, as he watched blood and brain spattered on floor before his killer followed down on top of it. His eyes never left Bond the whole while, and the sight of those hands shaking brought him out of his trance like state.

 

He got up and went over, not caring about the cuts on one side of his face and the front of his torso, as he reached out to put a hand over the gun and the hand that was clutching the weapon so tightly that its knuckles were white. There was no hesitation in his movement; he had nothing to fear.

 

Bond wouldn't hurt him.

 

"James," he called softly, deliberately using the man’s first name. "James, are you hurt?" Not "okay," because he obviously wasn't okay. 

 

James shook his head and his knees threatened to give out. It was... Shock. Shock and horror because he knew how to do it… Not that he knew he had too, but that he knew  how  to. 

 

He swallowed and steadied his hands, breathing deep. The emotions got pushed down, hardened. " The bodies... Help me get them into the boat..."

 

Q kept a steady hold, shaken but the sight of blood didn't frighten him as much as it had once done anymore, and right then, they really couldn't afford for either one to begin freaking out, barely holding on as the both of them were.

 

His hands were cold and clammy somewhat as well, and he nodded. Yes, he supposed they really couldn't just leave the bodies here on his porch and bedroom floor, could they?

 

"James," he said, the word came out thankfully solid than it had sounded in his mind. "You have to go and grab whatever it is that you need. We can't go back here once we leave."

 

He nodded, feeling oddly calm as he scooped down and picked up one of the bodies, up, over his shoulder.

 

Q snatched his laptop and shoved it inside his knapsack along with his wallet. This would be essentially everything he needed anyway, and turned back to quickly follow Bond out. "Wait," he breathed, and began searching through the body that was already up on the man's shoulder. The only thing he found was a phone, but at least that was better than nothing.

 

"Do these two seem familiar to you?" Q asked, lifting up their masks as he took pictures of them both. 

 

He looked down at the faces and they swam in his head. Bond shook his head as he lifted them up to the boat... Then stooped. "I..." He paused. "Am I doing this right?"

 

Q helped hauling the other one out to the boat as well, and thank God the beach was relatively near, because the dead weight of corpse wasn't easy to carry at all. By the time they did manage to load those two up inside, Q blinked at Bond's question, chest still heaving somewhat. "There's..." he cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose. "There's no right or wrong way of doing this, to be honest... Getting the job done and ensuring you own as well as bystanders' safety have always been the two main things."  And bringing back the equipment in one piece , but he didn't say that. It wasn't the time.

 

It wasn't as if he had ever been a field agent himself. There was a reason why his code name was "Q," after all.

 

"But well, disposing of the body and extracting ourselves from the scene are the right things to do." Especially when they had no medics, evac, or clean up teams to support them.

 

It was then that he realized something he needed to do: call Eve. 

 

James nodded and turned, tossing him a key. "I don't have much... Find what you think is necessary..." And he turned back to the boat, pushing it into the water and leaping into it.

 

Q caught the key, cradling it between his palms, and hurried away. Bond wasn't kidding when he said he didn't have much. There didn't seem to even be anything personal about the apartment as he looked through it. Then again, the man barely had any idea about who he was, let alone anything else.

 

Money, a pair of shades spotted on the nightstand, the knife he had seen used to gut fish, and a change of clothes (because Bond had blood spatters on his shirt) were all he ended up grabbing, before dashing to his own apartment, ignoring the brain matter and red stains all over, and grabbing himself a shirt as well. They couldn't go wandering around in bloody outfits now, could they?

 

It was then, at the threshold of the backdoor, that he noticed footsteps coming toward the front porch, and Q made a run for it.

 

"Mr. Solomon?! Mr. Solomon! Are you alright? We  heard fired gunshots!" was all he caught halfway toward the beach before waddling into the water toward the boat and hopping in that tad more graceful than he had been earlier in the afternoon.

 

Retracting his feet so it would stop nudging at the dead bodies, Q said, "Let's go." 

 

James leant over and helped Q into the boat by the simple act of leaning over and hauling him in. “Shhh…” he whispered. On the darkened sea, it was hard for them to see, but they were also hard to be seen. He began to row slowly, waiting until the waves crashed onto the beach before he stroked.

 

"What's the plan?" He whispered after some time of going parallel to the shore. 

 

Bond was instinctively better than him at this, and so Q kept quiet and let the man row, carrying them away from the apartment string.

 

"Get rid of these guys and find a safe place to hide," he whispered in reply, fingers fiddling with the screen protector of his phone. "I need to make a phone call."

 

"I thought we could sink the boat... If we dump the bodies... Maybe let the wood boat break up against the rocks..." Then what? He didn't know.

 

Q's brain was whirring with all these fluttering thoughts as he managed to successfully peel off the screen protector of his phone with his blunt fingernails. "That sounds reasonable." He nodded. "But it needs to be done somewhere that I can keep my electronics dry." His laptop and phone were essentially their lifelines right then, and he couldn't risk losing them to the damaging sea water. "After that..." he trailed off for a bit. With the cash they had, they would be able to rent a room for the night easily to recuperate and make some important phone calls. "Do you know which part of town is... less modernized than the rest? Not too many surveillance cameras and all that?" 

 

Best to avoid being tracked down too soon, too easily by Nine Eyes, he supposed. 

 

James nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the area thoughtfully. It was dark, very dark but he navigated with ease. "Yes... We can hide away there and then get a boat to the mainland... Then we can get a plane to wherever..." He whispered. Survival instincts.

 

Q listened, his hand holding the screen protector carefully before reaching out and pressing the thumb of each corpse down onto it. Pictures were one thing, but fingerprints would be good as well. Once done, he wrapped it in the bit of tissue he had and slid the slip into his knapsack. This was all they had right then, and he was going to utilize it best as he could.

 

He wasn't too sure about the boat to mainland, though that did seem more probable than staying here on this island waiting to be killed... "Mainland, though?" Did he mean Australia or mainland Asia? Either way though, it was going to be difficult to find a civilian boat going from Bali to Australia... Surprisingly so. It was according to his initial research anyway.

 

"Mainland Indonesia," he said quietly. They were going into a beach now, with darkened forests all around them. He took them to shore. "Wait on the beach... I'll be back as soon as I can..."

 

Q nodded. The waves sloshing against the side of the boat filling in the silence. Java wasn't too far away, and Jakarta was on its west point as well, and just beyond that was Sumatra, the Indonesian mainland Bond was talking about... And Sumatra was right below the Asia main content. Everything might seem small on a map, but it was still a long way for them to go, the sort of way that, with the limited means of transportation that they had (as far as he knew anyway), would be extremely difficult to cover.

 

"Okay," he whispered with a nod before stepping out of the boat, careful not to make too much of a distinct sound from the lapping sea upon the sand. "Be careful." His eyes stared into those icy blue ones that held spots of light reflected from the silvery beams of the moon above. The moon with veils of dark clouds circling about it. 

 

James looked up and was caught... He was caught by that look on those green pools. Green like... Algae? So it wasn't the most poetic description that he had ever heard but perhaps he wasn't a romantic man.

 

Bonds heart started to thud, faster than it had when he had been jumped by someone wielding a gun.

 

Q recognized that something shifted in Bond's eyes. There was a soft pinching sensation in the pit of his stomach. "James?" His voice was soft as he tilted his head to the side. 

 

"Hmm?" He jolted back into awareness. "Sorry."

 

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, reaching out to place a hand on Bond's forearm. "You don't seem too steady."

 

Electricity seemed to spark in him at the contact. James flinched away and looked away. A memory came into place like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. "You think you could do more damage with your laptop then I could do a year in the field..."

 

Q remarked nothing when Bond jerked away, the tropical sea still warm against his skin even in the dead of night. He was somewhat surprised at first but chuckled finally. "In my pajamas before my first cup of Earl Grey." The conversation was still stark in his memory for some reason. "But sometimes a trigger has to be pulled," he prompted, sort of hoping to see if the man still had that instinctive reply in him. 

 

"Or not pulled..." He said slowly. "It's hard to know which in your pyjamas..."

 

Something in him loosened, and Q smiled, the familiar answer had a more calming effect than he had originally thought. "Exactly." 

 

James nodded. He was looking everywhere but Q and he started to row out into the darkness. Slow... Gentle... When he was gone, out of slight... There was a muffled gunshot and then gurgling... James started to swim back in slowly

 

Q wondered briefly why Bond seemed to be avoiding him, but as he watched the man row away, he suddenly remembered that he was still in the water and began waddling to shore. 

 

He took out his phone and dialed Moneypenny's number once he was on the beach, keeping his eyes trained on Bond's darkened figure from afar, just flinching a little at the sound of gunshot ringing in the distance. 

 

"Moneypenny," Eve answered on the first ring.

 

"Miss Moneypenny," Q replied, trying to feign a cheerful voice. "What did you say about the souvenir you wanted?"

 

There was a pause in that voice. "Something local made," she said slowly, aware that there was something that she was missing. "Why?"

 

Q hummed. "Local made? You're in luck then." Bond was swimming back in, and he bit back a soft sigh. "I've just been given two presents, all of which are pretty elaborate. Both of them seem rather dark and odd though, so I'm looking through the local legends and background to see how come they are what they are." 

 

There was a soft sound of recognition in Moneypenny's tone. "Oh really? You should send the information to me. Not my work email, my other one. You know the one I mean? How’s your accommodation? Still crushing on the pool boy?"

 

"Hmm, I was thinking you'd know more about it than me. Look it through and tell me which one you like, okay? And which one is that?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, the persistent jet lag and general exhaustion was slowing his thinking process down. He did chuckled though at what Moneypenny said next. "Yeah... pool boy, still. He tried to teach me how to dance tonight. Don't know how well that worked out, though." Bond's hurt look flashed before his eyes, and Q blinked it away. "Everything is going... extremely well, I'd say. I even returned the room. My pool boy and I are going on a bit of an expedition, you see."

 

Moneypenny was good, extracting all the information that she needed from him to get them all the help and the support that she could manage. “Is he feeling any better? You mentioned that he was unwell?” she probed as Bond came up the beach, shirtless and soaked.

 

Q was very thankful for her, really, because just them alone against the sort of network that could dig up all possible information about anyone and anything (he should know, of course) wouldn't be enough.

 

"I think he's getting better," he said, with genuine gladness this time round. It was then that he turned and saw Bond walking up the beach, torso bare and shiny with sea water under the soft moonlight.

 

It looked exactly just as muscular, his torso, as it should have been when the man taught him snorkeling just earlier, but somehow, there were details that Q was only noticing right then.

 

"Uhm... Yeah, I need to go soon, Miss Moneypenny," Q said after clearing his throat a bit.

 

Bond arched an eyebrow when he saw Q on the phone. The gun was shoved into the waistband of the jeans. He turned away to give Q the privacy for his phone call. “Send me a postcard,” She chimed then set the phone down.

 

"Sure," Q replied and hung up, too. When that was done, he pulled out the change of clothes he had taken for Bond and went over to give it to him. "Here. Before you catch a cold." It wasn't good to underestimate the tropics nighttime wind, really. 

 

“I think the cold is the least of our problems,” he said, but didn’t complain as he pulled it over her shoulders lightly. “We should try and sleep here for a few hours… I don’t want to try and navigate in the dark…”

 

"Of course," Q drawled, rolling his eyes when Bond took the shirt anyway. His eyes darted out toward the beach then back to the edge of the forest not too far away from where they were standing. "Sure." He was exhausted anyway, and the man did have a point about navigation and darkness didn't very well go hand in hand. "Should we make a fire or no?"

 

“I’m alright without one, it's not that cold… and I would rather not be spotted… although it may deter any of the wildlife from getting too close… we can make a small one…” He would rather risk being spotted then getting stung or bitten.

 

It was exactly what he was thinking as well, although the shirt was meant to be used as a means to blend in with the locals later on to be honest, but he didn't say anything and just left it at that, the draining adrenaline making him a little tired. "Then we should go and see what we can find to make one." It was then that he hoped there was something dry around in a rainforest... Otherwise, this wasn't going to be good for them. 

 

There was nothing. They had just come out the rainy season and even the broken branches had the fresh, damp smell to them. James cursed and trudged back to the beach. The wind had gotten up, and there was a freshness in the air… with the adrenaline rush. James crouched in front of Q. “Come on… if we go by the rock, we may get some shelter…” he said quietly.

 

Q threw away the coconut shell with a muttered curse, the object landing into the shallow water with a small splash. He looked up at Bond for a moment, his eyes softening, then sighed, taming his frustration for a bit and stood up. "Okay." He followed along until the metal gleam of that knife Bond had used to gut fish flash before his eyes. "Oh," he breathed, reaching around inside carefully, lest he cut his hand or jostle the weapon enough it damage one of the wires inside. "Here. I grabbed it just in case." Q handed the knife over, extending its handle at the other man. 

 

Bond took the knife and set it in the belt on his hip. "Come on..." They found a space by the rocks that would provide some sort of shelter from prying eyes, and the wind. James sat down and propped his back against the rock. "You should get some rest..."

 

The only thing he had to worried about then, Q thought as he gave the rock a once over, was a snake slithering out from somewhere around or under it. Marvelous.

 

He settled down anyway, leaning against the hard surface and pulling up his knapsack so it would be sitting in his lap. Cushion was cushion even if there wasn't much of it.

 

"I am," he replied, only realizing that the cloud was clearing away finally and a few stars were starting to shine through behind the thin veil. "We should take turns."

 

James huffed. He was feeling chilly now, the air beginning to chill his skin. Putting an arm around him, Bond tugged him against his chest. "Sleep..."

 

Q froze in surprise a little, a surge of heat spreading up the nape of his neck other than the sudden warmth Bond's body was providing.

 

Of course, he didn't protest.

 

Instead, cleared his throat softly again, and said, "You need as much rest as I do, so let's take turns." But really, he could literally hear the other man's steady and strong heartbeat, and it was lulling him to sleep quickly. 

 

James turned his head and rested his chin on his head. His arm curled around him, protective. "Rest..."

  
Bond was being stubborn, as per usual, he supposed. "You, too," Q whispered, eyes falling shut. 


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was filling the sky when Bond shook Q gently awake. "Q... Wake up..."

 

Q took in a deep, steadying breath upon waking. "Morning..." he muttered, blearily rubbing his eyes. "Did you sleep at all?"

 

"Nah... I'll be alright..." If he had slept then there was a good chance that he would have woken the entire island screaming. "Besides... You looked fast asleep..."

 

Q frowned. "I'd have rather cut back on a few hours of sleep than leaving you sleepless... again. We will definitely take turns... if this happens again." A sigh tumbled from his lips as silence lapsed for a bit. He really didn't know how to respond to that. "Thank you," he said, settling for an answer. "For letting me sleep. Hope I didn't say anything weird in my sleep," he joked a little.

 

"You confessed your undying love for me and tried to hump my leg," Bond said... And smirked. "I'm teasing, Q. You fretted for a bit but seemed to settle down. Kept talking about cats..." He said quietly.

 

Q glared at Bond through narrowed eyes, adjusting his glasses so the frame wouldn't kept on jabbing at the same area of skin on his face and nose. He had it coming, but it was good still to see that Godawful smirk (maybe not too Godawful, after all) again. At least he was relaxing some. "Oh..." This had him laughing softly. "My cats." He didn't surprise himself then. "Oliver and Twist, they are." 

 

He paused and then chuckled at the name of the cats. "I appreciate the names," Q was warm against him, pressed, warm... Bond ran a hand up and down his spine lightly.

 

Q nodded sagely. "I thought you would." And he did, he had thought about it... back during the time when Bond had been made to drop off the grid. Back when the man was still dead to him, then Oliver himself died, and Q was finally getting over his grief and was considering who he thought would've appreciated the names of his two cats together... Surprisingly Bond was there on that short list.

 

He shivered when a hand begin to run up and down his spine... shivering at the warmth against his cool skin, that was. 

 

The sky was a dusk of rosy pink and orange just above.

 

"Snack?" He asked, digging out from inside his knapsack a packet of crackers that he always had with him in case he needed something to munch on. Working for the MI6, no matter the branch, always messed up his eating and sleeping habit... not that it had ever not been messed up anyway. "You haven't eaten last night." He gave the man the packet. They were going to have quite a day ahead of them, after all.  

 

"I would rather wait until we had fluids to wash it down with..." That would be their issue, keeping hydrated. Bond had a rough idea how to get to one of the smaller villages from here... But if they took a wrong turn or drifted off...

 

Q was comfortable against him.

 

Good point. Q thought to himself and nodded, berating himself for his single mindedness that prevailed from time to time. "Later, then," he said. Fresh water wasn't so much the challenge as clean fresh water. "You have any idea how we're going to catch a boat to mainland, though?" he asked, tucking the pack of crackers away, his brain jumping around to consider option of a sustainable source of fluid. It made him wonder if coconut was okay, but the prospect of actually acquiring the fruit with God knew what sort of creatures lurked among them that way up high wasn't a pleasant one. "Last I heard, it's surprisingly difficult to catch a boat just going around these islands." 

 

Of course, he hadn't realized yet that he was still leaning all too comfortably against Bond's chest. He looked down upon himself and assessed the small cuts he got from being thrown down on a floor full of broken fragments of glass before deeming that they had healed up nicely. 

 

Bond shook his head. His hand wandered up and down Q’s back, tracing lazy paths up and down his spine. It was a lover’s caress, innocent and absent minded. His other hand stretched behind his head and he arched his neck, exposing the hollow of his throat.

 

“It is… There are a lot of pirates in these waters… I think the priority is to get away from Bali and then away from Indonesia…”

 

Q almost didn't notice the contact, to busy with envisioning their survival and getaway plan than to actually playing much attention to anything else. It was then he remembered something and looked up at Bond. 

 

"Is renting a small plane easier than catching a boat?" he asked, not too sure on this subject. His eyes then caught Bond's stretch of exposed neck, the bobbing Adam's apple, and the hollow of his throat. He licked his lips. 

 

He paused and coked his head to the side. Bond shrugged. His fingers spread on his back, an intimate, possessive touch. His nails scraped a little as he looked at Q, and his heart leapt in his chest. “It… could be…” he mussed, as his body betrayed him.

 

Normally, Q wouldn't brave the thought of flying, much less just mere days after a seventeen-hour one from halfway across the globe. However, this situation warranted it, and he would be damned if he threw it away over his own personal... dislike. Moneypenny called it fear, though, and he thought that had been a bit harsh. At least he had proven her wrong (somewhat) this time by actually getting on a Boeing and allowed it to take him from London to here. Unsupervised by him. 

 

He did pause a little when he felt Bond's nails scrape over his back. "Oh. Really?" He cleared his throat. Bond's facial expression didn't change, but they were close enough for Q to notice the tension that had seeped into the man's posture and muscles. Was he nervous? "You used to know how to fly yourself. Do you remember that?" he asked quietly before remembering what happened back in Austria when Bond had used a plane to chase after Dr. Swann's kidnappers before almost crashing it into a small village. He grimaced internally. If they ever managed to get their hands on a plane, his only hope was that Bond, if he still remembered flying at all, would not be so... disastrous, to say the least. 

 

James shook his head. “Sorry… That’s not ringing any bells…” he said quietly, as he tried to make himself relax. His heart raced in his chest and he scolded himself. This man was younger then him by far… why the hell was he acting like this?

 

"Not to worry," Q replied quickly, not too surprised by the negative response. It wouldn't surprise him if the man's flying skills had already been transferred to implicit memory by now, and when they were there, he would most probably not remember it along with any other declarative information he had forgotten. If they were lucky, he would remember its operation instinctively once they got into the cabin— if they got into a pilot cabin.

 

But Bond was nervous, Q told himself, suddenly nervous as well for some reason, as he was starkly reminded that this was James Bond and not 007, although these two terms lapsed sometimes at certain points. Right then though, this was the actual man behind the so-called 'human weapon' that the was the long gone government-funded Double-oh program. Not the one with a license to kill.

 

"Most probably it'll come back to you instinctively... We can try that once we're sure catching a boat is not plausible," Q reassured Bond. Then silence lapsed, Q swallowed and wondered if this were wrong of him—not moving away even though the man was already uncomfortable as it was. But no, something whispered that he'd rather let Bond take the initiative and move away himself should he want to. Something about that rather lonesome comment just a day prior about whoever this guy Q was looking for was rather lucky.

 

"Well, there goes my holiday prospect, I suppose," he sighed wistfully, chuckling softly. 

 

Slowly, Bond began to relax. His fingers wandered up and down the man's spine, trailing a path that he knew so well… He sighed, and turned his head to look down at Q.

 

“You could have it… Go back to Bali… pretend you never met me… go home at the end of all this…” James said quietly, a sound of… desperation in his tone and a sound of a deep deep sadness. “You said that the double-oh program doesn’t exist… why shouldn’t double-oh seven stay dead?”

 

Gradually, Q began relaxing himself when Bond loosened up and resumed his stroking up and down his back.

 

"And leave you wandering about the forest by yourself? Unlikely," he scoffed, but sobered up quickly. "Even if the program doesn't exist anymore, you're still here." He turned to regard the man. "And I'm not leaving you here."  Not again.

 

James chucked slightly as he stoked the back. “You are a good man, Q…” he said softly. “Much better then me… I don’t even have to remember that to know that’s true… Should we start moving soon?” He was content to rest, relaxed with Q against his chest.

 

Q blinked, adjusting his glasses again just so he'd have something to do with his fingers. Years spent typing, encoding, and decoding and working with small electrical parts were making him rather edgy without having any of that, of the usual things he did and excelled at, to work on. Or was it the lack of control? God knew, really. A combination of both would most likely be it.

 

That, and it helped him shield his face away somewhat.

 

"We do what we can," he said. "And I know you'd probably do the same, should the situation be reversed." He left it at that, somehow caught up with watching the sort of expression he had never imagined he'd ever see on Bond's face: contentment. 

 

"I haven't a clue about these terrains," he shrugged. "So it depends on you, really. If you deem it appropriate, then we'll move."

 

“If you were my Quartermaster as you say you were,” Bond said slowly. There wasn’t distrust there, just awareness that he did not have all the information that he needed, “Then wouldn’t that make you my boss? Couldn’t you order me up? Or are you just comfortable here?” he teased softly

 

"Just dishing out the equipment and keeping my fingers and toes crossed that you'd actually bring them back in  one piece one of these days," Q replied with a feigned nonchalant voice before laughing softly. "But I know how to pick my own battles, James. And in a place I know next to nothing about, it's best to fall back on the locals than to tread these unfamiliar waters." He paused, a little awkward at the soft tease. "And aren't you comfortable yourself?" he challenged, silently admitting that, yes, he  was comfortable.

 

“You make a remarkably good blanket,” James said and he yawned, stretching again. Muscles bunched under him, as he stretched, before relaxing. “But… we should go. We need to find a bed for tonight and get help…”

 

"Objectifying me, Bond?" Q scoffed, but smiled in amusement himself when Bond stretched and yawned like a cat basking in the sun. It oddly reminded him of Oliver, and the thought suddenly struck, just as quickly as it had come popping into his mind. "Of course," he said. "I'd rather we get a proper bed soon, and you get some sleep." Not to mention he needed a place to actually use his laptop and send the necessary info over to Moneypenny.

 

“Some people like to be objectified,” James said nonchalantly. “It's never done anything much for me, personally,” he said with a wry grin. “Come on, Q, let's get moving… and sleep is overrated…” He knew he was hurting himself with the lack of sleep… he knew that he was causing himself harm. He knew that he should care more…

 

"And you'd know," Q drawled just as playfully, standing up along with Bond. "Not if the lack of it lowers coordination and concentration." He raised an eyebrow at the man. "And I'd rather you stay sharp for me, 007." He used the codename similarly to how Bond had used his. Somehow, hearing the man call him Q again put his mind at ease. 

 

The code name sent a shiver down his spine, even if he did not know why. “It's not a problem… I have never been great at sleeping…” he said and he trudged up the beach to the tree line and started to trudge into the dense undergrowth.

 

"Doesn't mean you can go without it," Q replied. "Not until the research scientists find out the exact reason for why we actually need it," he shrugged, following Bond into the shrubs and sticking close to the man, trying (and failing) not to appear too nervous about this. 

 

"Because the mind needs a time to stop and the subconscious needs time to sort everything out..." James said, distant and distracted. "Mine just started remembering all the blood and the pain and everything... And now I know that it's real and I'm not mad..."

 

"Yes, and reasons beyond that as well, or so I've heard." Q eyes darted around, looking down at his feet for fear of something slithering out from amid the darkness. "And yes... You're not mad." He was quiet for an instant before continuing, "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner." He really couldn't imagine how miserable Bond had been all this time, being essentially abandoned here without any idea of who he was and why he had all of these frightening visages of blood and death and killing. 

 

James shrugged, awkward at the sudden intimacy of the subject. " You tried..." He said quietly. "Even if you couldn't... Knowing you tried... It's good to know...'

 

"Maybe I should've tried more," Q replied, saying more to himself than anything. Lots of what-ifs and could-haves, to be honest, and he then couldn't avoid feeling as though he hadn't tried hard enough. Not nearly so.

 

"Q..." Bond stopped and turned, catching his hand in his. Holding on... The way that Q had tried to hold onto him last night . "You're here now... You’re safe and so am I..." He cooed. " You did find me... It just took some time..."

 

Q was surprised when Bond suddenly turned around and seized his hand, his breath hitching somewhat. But it wore off soon. "Not if I hadn't taken the trip here." He was dead serious about this. "Then who knows how long you'd be left here... all alone?"

 

"Enough..." His voice was quiet. "What could have been and what is... They’re two very different things..." He said gently. "Now stop..."

 

Q did stop, his fingers unconsciously curling tightly around Bond's hand that was holding his own. "Sorry," he whispered, clearing his throat and taking in a deep breath.

 

James squeezed his fingers lightly... But this time, he didn't let go. Q needed to know that he was there, and that he was forgiven... And James could see that on some level, Q needed to save him. Q needed to shed that guilt.

 

To be perfectly honest, Q hadn't expected Bond to squeeze his hand back, but he felt measurably calmer than he had just seconds before. 

 

Bond was there. James was there.

 

"Let's continue," he said finally. "Our goal for today is to find shelter." It was as though they were two boy scouts on a wild expedition or something, but Q just found that it was much easier to set up small, achievable goals like this to accomplish. However, with the stretch of forest what was still before them right then, he wasn't too sure how small and achievable this goal was. But well, it was best to trust Bond, he supposed. 

 

"Shelter and fluid..." Bond said as they started to walk..

 

"To that, shelter and fluid." Q nodded as they actually commence on heading into the forest. 

 

By midday, they had found neither and the air was beginning to get hotter and hotter. "It can't be that far now..." growled Bond.

 

The walk was long, and he stuck close by Bond, easing his mind as best as he could about this whole trekking in a rainforest thing. However, so far though, it didn't seem like they were any closer to their destination as they had been since the start. 

 

But really, that was just the negative side in him speaking. Q took off his glasses quickly to wipe the lingering perspiration on the lenses. "Yes, if anything I think we've already covered quite a lot of ground." Or so his legs were telling him. The bright sunlight just over head pierced into his eyes as he put his glasses back on. "Should we find a place to rest for a bit? Or should we continue on and rest until we actually find shelter?"

 

Bond paused and breathed deep, tasting the moisture in the air. He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked back at him. It was hot… very hot. Bond was sweating hard. “I can continue… but if you need a rest…”

 

Q was just a little lightheaded (thi s was the most exercise he had had in years), but he thought he would mostly be okay. But, admittedly, the heat was rather bothersome. "It's okay," he said, giving Bond another tissue. "Let's continue."

 

Bond took it and wiped his head. “You never thought about field work?”

 

Q scoffed. "Please, look at me." He was the type that Chinese sometimes referred to as people who couldn't even tie up a chicken properly. A living chicken, that is. "Besides, I believe in the efficiency and liability of technology rather than the more... traditional means." His perspective on this had shifted a little after entering the MI6, but it certainly hadn't changed, and would more likely than not stay that way for the rest of his life. He didn't believe in stopping a villain by jumping in front of a bullet if necessary. Not all missions had been like that, but it always came down to that one way or another.

 

There had to be a better way.

 

“By more traditional, you mean someone pulling a trigger… Why are you against this…” he stopped as memories flooded back, and his head throbbed. He let out a sound of pain, as the pieces started to fall into place. “They… They were watching… You were on a screen… behind a man… there was… someone else was the puppet…”

 

"Pulling the trigger and doing many other things before it reaches that point as well," Q replied. But true, pulling the trigger, or not, was the hardest part. There needed to be good and sound judgment on this, and honestly, he never believed, not for a second, any Double-oh to have that much of a... sound, peaceful mind. Not that anyone was entirely sane in the world, but when you killed for a living, it had to leave an impact on the psyche. 

 

And he had seen Bond's score just before Skyfall.

 

When the other man let out a sound of pain though, he was immediately alarmed and went forward. "James?" But he was already speaking, Bond, speaking about Q being on a screen, about someone watching, about another being... a puppet. His brows furrowed. "Can you describe anyone of the people you see?" He asked. "Especially the puppet." 

 

“On the screen… there was a dark haired man… a woman – gorgeous woman – I know them both…” his eyes closed as he tried to sort through the thoughts and the memories. “The man… he worked for… I can’t remember his name… He was a traitor… He had been bought off…”

 

Q's stomach sank. He had a very distinct feeling that he knew who Bond was describing. Not that he didn't have his own suspicions, but unfounded accusations were no better than framed crimes. And Q didn't remember being anywhere else than HQ to be on the screen with a dark haired man and a gorgeous woman. "The puppet is most probably Max Denbigh." Q swallowed. "I believe you called him C." 

 

“I was in Morocco… with the blonde… Malaline, was it?” he asked softly, closing his eyes. “He worked for the one… who fucked my head…”

 

"Madeleine Swann," Q answered softly, his brows creasing together more and more. For a moment there, he wondered what had become of her. But there was no time for that right then. "Shit," he whispered. So it really was C. And he was working for Oberhauser as well. It was a set up all along. 

 

"James," he called, "do you need to sit down?" His mind was a frenzy, but Bond looked too pale right then for it to be healthy, and their main goal right then was survival... C and his bloody betrayal could wait... Until he found signal for his phone, of course. 

 

James shook his head and stood up. "No... let's keep going..." he said and started to trudge forwards.

 

Q pursed his lips. He wasn't too sure if he should let Bond continue or not (because the man looked even more light headed than he was), but he was already moving on, and Q supposed that there was hardly any choice but to continue. Especially when he was sure neither of them knew exactly where they were, least of all him.

 

So, he decided to stay that tad closer to the other man, lest something undesirable happen. 

 

Eventually, they staggered out onto a main road, filthy and sweaty and dehydrated… down the hill, and they could see a village in the distance, one that hadn’t been touched by civilisation. It was slums, but it was somewhere that they could get information and help.

 

It was already somewhere mid afternoon, approaching to late, Q believed, when they managed to drag themselves out of the dreadful rainforest and find an actual village. "Well done, 007," he whispered breathlessly, staring at the remoteness of all this, and couldn't help a silly grin. He had never felt so glad. Heat, exhaustion, and dehydration combined was most probably the cause of it. 

 

And the both of them headed there; Q hoping all the while that indigenous people would be just as friendly and welcoming as the people he had met so far. Above all, he was hoping to be able to at least catch some sort of signal here.

 

“Just doing my job,” Bond breathed back, but he too was supporting a tired smile. “We could probably stay here for a night or two… We may have to go without food, hopefully we can find someone to take us in,” he said as he started the slow trudge down the hill. It wasn’t long until the kids started to see them, and Bond soon had a toddler on each hip as he carried them into the village.

 

Friendly children. Check. Q thought to himself, biting his lip to stop himself from smirking like a loon with how Bond, despite how worn and haggard he looked, still took up two of the toddlers and was then carrying them back to the village. There were kids around Q, too, but mostly, they were the older ones, and they were more interested in what was in his knapsack. God, he wanted to whip out his phone and snap a picture of Bond so badly his fingers were itching. Moneypenny would be more than interested in seeing this. "Mind if I take a picture?" he asked teasingly. 

 

Of course, Bond had little idea of his reputation in MI6 and shrugged. “Sure,” he turned to the children, and spoke to them in their native tongue. They leant against Bond and pulled large, cheesy grins.

 

Q had to bit the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from laughing aloud, but my, wasn't he feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. He knew he should be ashamed of himself, taking advantage of a man who had no idea about what sort of reputation he had back at MI6, but he couldn't help himself. This was too precious a gem to lose. "Thank you," he said quickly, took out his phone, and focused the camera on the children and Bond. Wonderful, he thought to himself before pausing a little at the sort of image this made... 

 

Should he be surprised that Bond was this good with children?

 

He didn't know, but he took the picture anyway, a bit of glee seeping away to be replaced by something else, something less fathomable and tangible. Almost rueful. He shook it away and smiled. "Beautiful shot."

 

“Thanks… I think…” he set the kids down and spoke to them. They darted away, chattering excitedly. “They are going to get the village leader… We are guests here, we don’t want to piss anyone else off…” 

 

Q reminded himself to store this picture somewhere it could never be uncovered or destroyed without his explicit authorization, and tucked the device away. His eyes trailed along with the group of children, and nodded. "I know." 'House' guests common courtesy and all. They could not risk this sort of shelter, not until they were sure of their way out. "Do we need to go to any other place after this?" He turned back to look at Bond. "Before trying to catch a boat to mainland, I mean."

 

"If I am where I think I am - and I am really not sure right now - then we should be about a day or so away from one of the coastal towns in on the north. There, we can get to the other islands and make a plan..." He said quietly.

 

That didn't particularly sound very encouraging, Q mused, shifting on his feet and adjusting his glasses. "We can always ask the villagers for confirmation," he said. "But a day away, you say? There are other villages around for us to stop by during that time, right?"

 

He nodded and smiled. "That's the plan anyway..." And stepped forward to great the village head, putting the palms of his hands together and bowing his head politely. The main religion of the island was a mix of Hinduism and Buddhism, and he was hoping that he was on the right path. The polite intention was there, at least. 

 

Q hoped things would at least, to some extents, go accordingly as planned. He smiled back and turned to see who he assumed to be the village head approaching them. Not knowing the proper thing to do because this certainly was not on the to-do list he had mentally drafted before coming here, he quickly copied what Bond did, pressing his palms together, and bowed, too.

 

Bond spoke to the village leader, speaking in the native tongue as he slipped into the language, talking quietly… and then nodded, turning to Q. “He says we can stay the night and they will provide us somewhere to sleep… it won't be much, they don’t have much…” he said quietly.

 

Q stood there, trying not to fidget too much, and listened to the flowing syllables and consonants rush through his ears. It still impressed him that Bond had so much control of Indonesian in just the one year time he had been left here.

 

"That's good to know," he whispered, relieved. Q bowed to the village head to show his respect and thankfulness before turning back to Bond. "What now?"

 

“Now… we wash and drink…” a pail of water was being brought to them, and a woman in a head scarf indicated that they should follow. Bond offered the water to Q first.

 

"Thanks," Q whispered and slipped into the small, sheltered shed to begin washing. He used it scarcely to shower down his head, hair, and body, ridding himself of the sweat and dirt, and leaving most of it to Bond. The man had literally created a path for Q to follow, and that took lots of efforts, so he deserved a good wash. Once done, he briefly washed his shirt, wrang it, put it back on and went out to meet Bond again. "Your turn," he said, gesturing to the shed. 

 

Bond nodded and headed in. He was a little longer then Q was, but he came back looking a lot fresher. They were shown where they would sleep and where they could eat… there was no electricity for Q to plug in, and they had one mattress between them that looked as if it had seen better days.

 

“…To them… this is the best they can give…” he said softly to Q.

 

Q looked around the place they had been given. It wasn't much, but it was better than the beach and a rock, and he appreciated it a lot. He had expected the fact that they wouldn't have electricity; it was the middle of nowhere. But what he didn't see coming was the single, battered mattress. 

 

"I know," he whispered. "This is already more than I expect."

 

James nodded. "You can take the bed... I'll kip on the floor..." he said quietly. They had been invited into their village and food was already being prepared for their guests. 

 

Q shook his head immediately. "No, either you take the bed and I get the floor..." He paused, suddenly the other verse of what he was saying here. "Or we both get the bed." His eyes turned over to Bond, feeling more than a little nervous. "How about that?"

 

He paused... and then he nodded. "I am fine with that... I'm not shy..." He needed the sleep though. Badly. 

 

Q was internally glad and a little embarrassed as well when Bond said he wasn't "shy." Well, he knew the man wasn't shy all right. "Good," he said, attention wandering toward the door. "Should we help them out?"

 

Outside, the sun was setting. A fire had been set up and they followed the kids to the village, all sitting together. Bond translated the offer and was shot down. “We should sit and keep out the way, so he says,” Bond said, and he sat in a place in the circle that was indicated.

 

"Oh," Q replied, nodding and settling down next Bond. The burning fire was a bright contrast to the soft orange and purple hue of the sunset sky above, but he appreciated the nature... as much as he could anyway, what with his muscles screaming murder at him. "So... since you roughly know how to navigate here, I assume you've been on a similar trip before?" he asked quietly, leaning over to the man sitting next to him.

 

“I've walked all over this island… Most places chuck me out after a time…” James said as he stared into the fire. Leaning back, he looked up at the stars and watched as they popped into existence, one by one.

 

Q was quiet to that for a moment, his mind still spinning back toward the what-ifs and could-haves that they had discussed just right before the trekking started out for real... what could have been different had he poured in more efforts into finding this man, not just to them but to MI6 and a whole lot of other things as well. "Did you ever think of going to anywhere else?" Assuming that Oberhauser people actually allowed him to go, of course. "Any place other than here."

 

“I wanted to travel… I had dreams of places… America, England, Russia…” James said quietly. “I know now that I have been to most of them… Just don’t remember it… I was saving money for a ticket off this island…” he said quietly

 

Q nodded. England had been all he knew, now Bali was on the limited list, but personally, he had never thought much about traveling. His dislike of flight somewhat contributed to that, but it was because of work as well, he supposed. He needed something to keep him busy, and work kept him busy all right. But MI6 now wasn't the old MI6 anymore; everything was too suffocating. There was no minions left for him to order around, but that wasn't the point. The point was that C was deliberately trying to hold him under water, limiting a lot of things.

 

Now he knew why.

 

But still, he wondered sometimes why he hadn't left. The answer wasn't very clear to be honest. "Your plan went to smoke because of me then," he said with a teasing tone, chuckling softly.

 

“We both know,” James said quietly, “that they would have killed me before they let me go… I would have never made it out of Bali alive…”

 

"I know..." He whispered back. This situation wasn't any better than that to be honest, but it was what it was, and at least, this way they had that bit more control over their lives. And Q was fine with that. "But well, one door closes and another one opens. You are going to leave, just in a different way than what you originally imagined."

 

Q chuckled, shaking his head and pouring himself a bit of locally made wine, too, before passing it over to the person next to him with a smile. "A toast to surviving!" He grinned, clinking his goblet with Bond's, before taking a swig of it. The taste was... strange, to say the least, but good either way.

 

"To survival," he said and drained the mug.

 

"Slow down, Bond," Q chuckled. "This is the heavy stuff." 

 

"To you, perhaps," he said as food was passed around.

 

Q huffed halfheartedly. "I just don't want a drunk man in bed with me," he said teasingly.

 

"Afraid you might enjoy yourself?" He countered.

 

"Should I expect to enjoy myself, then?" Q quipped.

 

"Would you expect not to?" He shot back.

 

"I expect nothing else other than a warm body next to mine originally." Q couldn't stop himself from chuckling. "But you're just making me wonder is all."

 

"You'll have to keep wondering," Bond teased.

 

"Well," Q said in an almost sing-song voice. "I'll have to wait and see, won't I?"

 

Bond laughed, a wicked, delighted sound and relaxed back. It was the same wickedness in his laugh as before, and it sent a shiver down Q's spine—a sensation which he didn't quite understand. 

 

A small dish of food was handed to them, a dish of rice and vegetables, with a few small chunks of chicken. Once everyone had a dish, several of the women began to sing to the crowd, a chanting, haunting melody. He ate quietly the portion of food he had been given, the song the women were singing seeping into his ears before curling and tightening around his stomach. 

 

"What are they singing?" he asked Bond in a hushed tone, not wanting to disrupt whatever this was.

 

"The Guru Gita,” Bond replied quietly. “It's Sanskrit..." He whispered. "It's a song of worship... Devotion..." He whispered softly.

 

"Sanskrit," Q echoed softly, nodding. "It's beautiful... but rather haunting as well." 

 

James leant in and translated what he understood of the song which wasn't that much, but it was enough. Stories were told and there was dancing, singing. James clapped the rhythm with all the others.

 

Q leaned in as well to hear the whispered translation, nodding along to demonstrate that he was listening. And then there was music, there was dancing, and he was clapping along with Bond; the fire over there was reaching its height, its orange hue and bright sparks illuminating the darkness. He was smiling—this was the sort of experience he had not expect from this journey at all, but at least, right then, it seemed almost well worth it—and turned to look at the man sitting besides him, the light of those golden flames casting shadows along the rising and falling contours, softening the angular edges out.

 

Maybe he wouldn't show that picture to Moneypenny after all.  

 

James turned his head sharply, suddenly catching his eyes. He smiled at Q. “You okay?” he asked quietly, under the sounds of celebrations and revelry. "What are you thinking?" he asked curiously, watching him. 

 

Q smiled. "Nothing much. I was just considering whether I should show that photo of yours I took earlier to Moneypenny." He paused briefly before elaborating. "She's a good friend of yours, Moneypenny." Neither had ever admitted it, but it was clear from the bits of their interactions he had seen that they were close. "She's one of the people who are over there trying to help us out." He had almost said "home" for a second there, but remembering how Bond had reacted last time he heard that, he had refrained just in time.

 

James nodded slowly, and it was clear that he was trying to put a name to the face… “Dark skinned… dark hair… lovely smile… gorgeous legs..." he said softly. 

 

Q laughed softly, glad that Bond was still able to remember her that well. "That's her alright." He stared into the flames; it was rather relieving that his memory function wasn't  too badly damaged. The worst thing that could have happened hadn't happened after all. With that sort of injury, it could interfere with the man's ability to retain short-term memory and transfer it to long-term. That would have been a difficult situation. "Her and Tanner, too. And Mallory," he added the name gradually, not wanting to overfeed Bond with too much information at once. "They're our allies."

 

Bond looked away as he tried to regain his centre. Tried to make himself think outside the box, tried to put a name to the faces… Mallory… Tanner… “No idea on those two…” He said quietly. Then… “Sorry…”

 

Q shook his head. "It's okay. It'll come back to you," he reassured the man. "Recalling everything too quickly is impossible anyway, and you've been remembering things a lot lately yourself." Like how C was just a puppet for Oberhauser. "That's plenty of progress already."

 

“It was seeing the face of a friend… we are friends, aren’t we?” James asked quietly, and suddenly a little… shy, almost. It was… He felt like there was something there between them… the way his body had responded to the young hacker, like he was the opposite polarity of a magnet.

 

Q looked at Bond for a moment, taking in the slight shift in the man's voice, and smiled softly. "Yes." There had never really been any clear indications that they were friends. Aside from the shared banters they had whenever the man had to stop by Q-branch to either pick up or drop off his equipment, was he? Bond's friend? The official title was Q and 007, quartermaster and agent, anyway. But he supposed that didn't really matter right then. "We are."

 

James nodded as if he were glad for the information and he turned back to the gathering in the village. These people had little… but they had gone out the way to make them feel welcome, even offering them a room that they could stay in. It was humbling. 

 

Q settled back to watching the villagers as well. This was a starkly different lifestyle than anything he had personally experienced, and a part of him was awed, to say the least, with the hospitality and everything... They were ready to take in two strangers with unknown backgrounds who just emerged suddenly from within the rainforest, haggard and worn. That alone spoke volumes.

 

He drew one leg closer to his chest and propped his chin up on top of his knee, watching the natives continuing on singing and dancing, the orange flames flickering in the air, humming softly along with a short part of the melody that he had managed to memorize. Everything, from the motion to sound, was lulling him into a trance again, and it didn't take long before Q was rubbing his eyes from under his glasses.

 

Bond glanced at Q and he smiled a little. “You look tired…” he said quietly, and he stifled a long, loud yawn. He stood up, and explained to those who questioned, that they were both tired and needed sleep. Standing up, he offered Q a hand. “Come on… you need to sleep…”

 

Q gave Bond an amused smile. "As you do yourself," he said, accepting the helping hand to stand up, and bowed wordlessly to the villagers. "How do you say thank you in Indonesian?" It was starting to feel rather rude to just... leave all the talking to Bond and stay silent to these people throughout when they were so good to them.

 

James grinned and told him the word, before turning and headed to there little room that they were to share

 

Q said the word, trying to make it sound like what Bond had just said, before following the man into their little room. 

 

Bond pulled of his shirt and folded it neatly. He sat down, and glanced up at Q. “Bed… you look beat…” he ordered quietly.

 

Q paused a little at the sight of a partially naked Bond before smirking. "What? Ordering me around already, hm?" 

 

“Just trying to stop you keeling over,” he stretched his legs out in front of him, and bent one knee… a position that he would never be able to sleep in. He folded his arms across his chest.

 

"Come on," Q said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting his hand on the mattress. "Scoot over here some more. You look stiff enough to be a plank." 

 

“Will… Q…” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “If I fall asleep then there is a good chance that I will wake up the village, okay? We need their help, and we don’t want them running us out in the middle of the night.”

 

Q looked at Bond then lay down himself. "I understand your worries," he replied quietly. "But I'm a light sleeper, okay?" He was. And normally, he didn't sleep much anyway. "I can wake you up if you begin to thrash in your sleep. At least then you get some sleep and no one's disturbed." He reached out, placing one hand on the other man's arm. "Come on. Move over here some more."

 

James huffed and after a full, highly stubborn moment, he slid onto the bed beside Q and lay back, hands on his chest. He stared up at the ceiling, defiant… and then he yawned.

 

Q smirked at the man's yawn even after his petulant act. "Was that so difficult?" he teased. "You should feel lucky my build isn't at all that big."

 

"Oh shut it, you," he shot back, sounding amused as he shifted, trying to get comfortable. He didn't want to sleep... his eyes drooped... and he was sleeping within moments…

 

Q laughed, but kept quiet after that and watched as Bond quickly slipped into slumber despite saying that he didn't want to just seconds before. The man needed the sleep anyway; it had been too exhausting a day. "Goodnight, James," he whispered, closing his eyes, too, and falling asleep easily afterward himself.


	7. Chapter 7

James got a few hours rest, before his mind slipped into REM sleep… and he started to move. It was nothing at first, just restless twitching. He shifted… then rolled back onto his back… Trembles wracked his lims…

 

Blood poured… pain between his legs… a man with a scar on his eye…

 

His own manic laughter…

 

“Yeah! 'Cause no matter what you do, I'm not gonna give you the password which means your clients are gonna hunt you down and cut you into little pieces of meat while you're still breathing. Because if you kill me, there'll be nowhere else to hide.”

 

James howled like a wounded animal.

 

Q's eyes shot open with a gasp, and already, he was holding on to the then thrashing Bond, whose eyes were still screwed shut, lost in the throes of whatever nightmare of the past that had taken grip of him. "James!" he called, not too loudly, holding on to the other man's shoulders. "James, wake up!"

 

James moaned, and his face was twisted with pain… he curled into himself, self preservation taking over, trying to hide from the torture, hide from the pain. Tears squeezed between his eye lids. 

 

Q could only watch. Bond was curling up, there were even a bit of tears in those squeezed shut eyes, and he looked to be in so much pain that Q didn't know what else to do, how else to comfort him. Biting his lip, he gathered Bond closer to him, holding the man close and rocking a little back and forth. "Shh... James... James..." he whispered. "It's okay. It's okay. It's just a dream."

 

He twitched and stiffened. His breathing pattern changed. “Q?” he was awake… his voice sounded broken, and so so lonely. Young… and terrified. He tried to pull back, to get away.

 

"Yes, James," he whispered back, stroking the man's back softly, his other hand sliding up to massage James's scalp. "It's Q. It's me. Everything is just a dream. Just a dream. Don't worry. You're okay."

 

“Fuck…” James pressed his face into Q’s shoulder. He shook violently, and one hand rested on his crotch. His breaths were pained. “I always wondered why I had scars… I was tortured… wasn’t I?” He whispered, curling into Q gently.

 

The waves of tremors saddened him, and Q tightened his hold, his hand still stroking and fingers still massaging James's scalp, trying to relax the man. "Yes..." he whispered quietly. "Le Chiffre did invent quite a method of torture."

 

James pulled back from him suddenly and he was on his feet, staggering outside… retching… then the sound of his stomach emptying with force. Once he had thrown up everything bar his toenails, he sunk back onto his bottom… the world spun and he put his head in his hands.

 

Q stood up and silently waited for James to stop retching, his stomach heavy as lead. Once the man returned with his face in his hands, he rushed over to direct the other man back to the bed. "Sit," he whispered. 

 

James did so, heavy and aching in places that he did not know hurt. He didn't speak... he had nothing to say. The silence was terrifying.

 

Q didn't expect him to say anything to be honest as he saw the bit of water the villagers had left for them and went over to get Bond some. 

 

"I'm fine, Q," he said, once he had washed out his mouth and sipped a few mouthfuls. "Go back to bed..." 

 

Q shook his head. "You're obviously not fine, James," he protested quietly, sitting down next to Bond. "And I'm not sleepy either."

 

“Don’t bullshit me, Q, you were exhausted,” he growled, suddenly annoyed. “Just go back to sleep, I am fine!” Then he was up, pacing restlessly. 

 

He couldn't help but jump a bit at the sudden outburst. "I'll go back to sleep whenever the Hell I want to," he said firmly, eyebrows furrowing somewhat. "It's not as if you weren't, aren't, tired yourself."

 

"Yes, and I have only slept through... five, maybe six nights this year. I can deal with it, Q. I am used to it. You're not and you aren't. Go back to sleep."

 

"Please, as if I don't stay up until the wee hour to do my work normally myself," Q replied, a little snappish and frustrated himself. "I'm not going back to bed when you aren't settled down yourself."

 

“Fine,” he snarled as he snatched up his shirt and crossed to the door, furious.

 

Q closed his eyes, rolling them, and sighed, pushing himself up from the bed and following the man. "James."

 

James spun and suddenly pinned him to the wall, having a fistful of his collar. "Back off..."

 

Q's eyes widened, his entire body froze at the sudden movement and force. "What? You're talking about me or yourself?" he quipped, sounding more confident than he felt. 

 

"Talking about you," he snarled. He was angry... Hurting badly. "Just..." He let him go and rubbed at his temples, stretching. Trying to lose the tension.

 

Q let out a breath when Bond finally let him go, staring at the man who then was rubbing his temples in pain. Slowly, he raised up his hands and placed them on the other man's shoulders. "Calm down, James," he whispered. "Don't just rush out like that. There's nothing but the forest out there."

 

"It's easier to navigate than this," he whispered in response as he tapped his temple lightly.

 

"I know..." Q replied. "But it's nighttime in the forest, James." He shook his head. "Don't go." He looked up hesitantly at the other man. "I can try to help ease your mind," he offered despite not knowing exactly what to do.

 

He snorted, a bitter sound. "How?" He growled.

 

Anger was much easier to deal with, Q decided, flinching inwardly at the growled bitter sound. "What do you feel like doing then?" he asked back. "Aside from running out into the forest, that is."

 

"I don't know..." He snapped. "You tell me... You're the smart one.'

 

"Technology is easier to deal with than humans," Q muttered, more to himself than anything.

 

"Yes, well you are stuck here with me..." He pulled away and lay back down on the mattress, facing the wall.

 

Q sighed when Bond finally lay back down and went over to sit down next to him. "Sorry..." he whispered. "Haven't much to offer." He fiddled with his own fingers. "Would've been better if you were stuck with a woman."

 

James turned his head slowly to look at him and the confusion at his words were written across his face. “What do you mean?” he asked after a moment because he really had no idea.

 

Q froze, ceasing his fiddling. "Nothing," he replied immediately. "I was just thinking that maybe a woman would have been better company. To you." Good God, what was he saying?! "I don't know." 

 

"Q..." His voice turned gentle. "You’re good company. I'm not... And I doubt I ever was good company. I think you know that .."

 

Q's brows furrowed. "James," he began after licking his lips, "You've always been quite a charmer." Aside from breaking, exploding, nearly destroying more than several government properties. "So you've always been good company." His voice was quiet in the dead of night. It seemed he had woken the man up just in time not to startle the whole village. 

 

James smiled and it became wicked. " So you found me charming, did you?"

 

Oops. A voice whispered in his mind, and that irritated him. Q swatted it away. "And?" he replied, embarrassed and somewhat annoyed with himself. Bond's wicked smile didn't really help.

 

"Just curious. Do I generally prefer women?" That didn't seem to fit right to him. He couldn't explain it... It just wasn't right.

 

Q pursed his lips. "I don't know if that's your personal preference or not, but on your missions, you... charmed a lot of women." He should know, he had mostly been there watching after all. "And men. Usually in different ways. But you charm most people you meet." Even the villains. 

 

He snorted a little. "By charmed, you mean seduced," he drawled, but the conversation was settling him. "While I've been here... It's been both...'

 

Q rolled his eyes. "Yes,  seduced ." And go to bed with them. Whichever came first. But what Bond said next made him blink. "Both?" He turned to look at the man, curious and relieved at the same time that Bond seemed to have calmed down somewhat. 

 

"While I've been here..." He shrugged. "It seemed right... While I was here .." he looked up at him. "Why?"

 

Suddenly, Q felt a little abashed. Abashed, of all things, his mind scoffed. "I don't know. I've seen you mostly with women..." The nape of his neck was hot. "So I just... I'm curious, is all."

 

"I kissed you... You didn't look that horrified... And yes, sex is a good way of wearing me out... Sometimes I've slept through...'

 

"Surprised," Q offered with a mutter, trying to stay calm but his face was growing flushed. Why must Bond point that out? And how in the world had the conversation taken such a turn anyway?

 

But he couldn't very well ignore the other part of what Bond was saying now, could he?

 

Q turned to Bond. "So sex calms you then?" he asked in the most neutral tone he possessed.

 

"It has done in the past, yes. Not often..." He mused... He was already starting to drift again.

 

Q hummed a noncommittal noise. "I see," he said, noticing that Bond seemed to be drifting again, and was glad for that.

 

James didn't sleep, not the deep restful sleep that he needed. He twisted and he whined, and talked endlessly in his dreams and nightmares. Calling names, reliving the good and the bad.

 

Q sighed, watching Bond twitch, not knowing what exactly to do in this situation. Pursing his lips, he reached out and carefully laid a soothing hand on the man's back, rubbing up and down. "Shh... It's okay," he whispered, perhaps in the odd hope that Bond would somehow hear him through his restless sleep or something. "You're okay, James. You're not alone anymore."

 

James was like that until morning, when light woke him. He woke to find himself wrapped around the younger man, cling onto him... when he awoke, he looked like hell... he looked ill almost. 

 

Eventually, Q fell into a restless sleep himself, still holding and leaning against Bond. He had strange dreams for the rest of the night, flashes of images that he couldn't quite make out or understand. It was tiring, and he awoke upon feeling the other man stir.

 

His eyelashes flutter, and already Q felt like he could use either a good, hot, large mug of tea or coffee. Blearily and a little unconsciously, he curled up some more, the night had been hot, but the early morning was slightly chilly. Maybe it was just him not wearing his socks.

 

But really, who would think of that in this sort of weather?

 

"'Morning," he muttered. "God, even without my glasses, you still look like Hell." Q sighed. 

 

Bond chuckled. One arm was looped around Q, the younger man was curled against him. "You're a fine one to talk..."

 

"We're both mobile Hell, then," Q replied. He didn't know how he looked, but he certainly knew he wasn't at his best game. Oh well, not that he had quite ever been anyway. "There should be a network company named like that." He chuckled at that himself. 

 

Bond chuckled softly and rubbed at his eyes. "Hey... Sorry for being an ass..."

 

Q sighed, withdrawing his arm, and shook his head. "Dealt with worse, really," he muttered. "And you had your reasons." 

 

Bond sighed and ran his hands through his hair, and closed his hair. “I had my reasons…” he stood up and slid out. Outside, the wind was warm… and the sunlight was bleeding over the horizon. It was stunning… “Q…” he whispered. “Q, you need to see this…”

 

Q blinked and got out of bed quickly, not knowing what was going on, and paused at the sight of sky. "Wow," he breathed as the warm wind rushed over to caress them both. 

 

James leant against the doorway. The other way would be leaning into Q, as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching as the sun rose. “It's… stunning…”

 

"It is," Q turned over and smiled at Bond, mesmerized by the reflecting spectrum of light in the man's blue eyes. "Not a sight I had ever imagined I'd witness personally."

 

He turned to look at him, and then looked down, before looking away. There was a sense of… something. Unease… a worried frown. “We should get moving…” he said softly.

 

Q tilted his head to the side, looking at Bond for a moment, then turned to the rising sun once more, before nodding. "We should." And they began moving to prepare for the upcoming trek. 

 

They would be on foot from now on, and between them, the villagers managed to get them a backpack and they had supplies. Food and bottles of water, they were told how to get to the next village. Bond paused, and then hoisted the backpack onto his back. 

 

Q was grateful for what they had managed to provide, and God, they were really being too generous to a pair of strangers that had emerged out of nowhere from the forest. He recited the word for 'thank you' that Bond had told him the previous night and bowed his head to them. 

 

James joined in with the thanks, and sank to his knees to hug the children. He smiled, and he talked before they turned and headed down the path, out of the village… they were heading north, to one of the coastal towns.

 

Bond was surprisingly good with children, and Q watched as the man hugged and talked to them for a while with such a fond expression on his face, somehow feeling this ease his mind somewhat, before they turned to walk away. "How far away are we from the next village?" he asked, since he didn't understand what the villagers had said to Bond.

 

"Half a day," James said quietly as they walked. It wasn't long until the trees hung over them, overshadowed them, but instead of being cool, it still seemed to get hotter and hotter. James had Q tell him about anything he knew about Bond as they walked... Anything to improve memory.

 

Q didn't know if he were the right person to be talking about this, to be honest, because he hadn't known Bond for too long, or rather, he probably had known 007 better than he had James Bond. Moneypenny, Tanner, or maybe even the old M would have been better choices, but they weren't there right then, he was the man's best choice, and Q supposed he had to do his best. Whatever that meant.

 

So he talked, much more than he had in quite a long time, about the missions 007 had taken up—the ones he knew personally and the ones he only knew through filed reports—then he ended up talking about how Bond usually acted, or how he perceived it to be anyway, around them, around beautiful women... Things like that. Small things, too. Like how he hated medical and wanted an exploding pen, of all things, and how he loved his Aston Martin. 

 

What he didn't say was Bond's psyche evaluation. Not just yet. That was something Bond would gradually regain as he re-obtain his memories, he supposed.

 

James walked with him and listened to Q talk as they walked. He asked questions, and was surprised to learn these things about himself. An exploding pen… what?  And an Aston Martin… he did admire cars.

 

“What about you? Tell me about Q,” he said suddenly as they walked. The man was an oddity, and a curiosity.

 

Q paused and blinked a little owlishly. "Me?" he laughed nervously. "Nothing much about me I'm afraid. I used to be security head of the MI6's system aside from designing and making weapons for the Double-oh agents..." He shrugged. "That's it." 

 

“What about before MI6? Have you always wanted to work for national security? What about now? Any hobbies and interests? Apart from the cats…”

 

"Not really," Q replied. "I used to hack into national and international systems, and I tried to stay away from MI6, actually. Until something happened..." He trailed off for a moment, looking a little blankly into space for a bit as they walked on. "An organization got hold of me."  Kidnapped . "And MI6 sort of rescued me, and well, I had no choice but to accept the recruitment proposition now, didn't I?" He laughed, a little mirthlessly. 

 

Q shook that odd shroud of feelings away. "Aside from cats?" he chuckled. "Well, tinkering around with stuff  is my hobby actually. That's why I took up the quartermaster job in Q-branch anyway. Reading books and Earl Grey tea, and..." Wow, that sounded wholly uninteresting. "Stuff like that. Nothing much," he repeated again. 

 

James, however, was listening with curious interest as he watched him from the corner of his eye. “You fell into someone else's hands and MI6 rescued you,” he repeated, slowly, and frowned. “Wait… It was Karen… the blonde…” he waved a hand, indicating a bob. “She saved you…”

 

Q's eyes widened. "Yes," he breathed. "It was Karen..." He blinked. "I- I didn't know you knew..."

 

"You're not the only one who gets into places that they are not meant to be," he said softly. In his case it was between 002’s thighs.

 

Q shook his head. "I know. Somehow, I just didn't think that you'd be aware of the case, is all..." He trailed off; it seemed like a small case to him, after all. Suddenly, he wondered what would have happened if it had been Bond who rescued him out of that place. First impressions meant a lot of things, and a shiver ran up his spine at the thought of how his and Bond’s relationship would have been changed had it been the man who had dove in front of danger to save him… Q let the thought drift away with a blink. Too much what-ifs, to be honest, and uncertainty wasn’t his forte.

 

"I wasn't... I know she got shot... It just... Fell into place..."

 

"Oh," Q swallowed. "She jumped in front of me, Karen." Sometimes, at night, he woke up and still thought he could feel the blood spatters on his shirt and face. Sticky and hot and almost burning. "And still tried to pull me away into a safe place until evac came." In the end, Q couldn’t have been happier that Karen had survived the injury, but still, the memories still stood stark on the canvas of his mind, and he suspected it would be for a long time to come.

 

Bond nodded slowly as memories fell into place. Whispered words, comfort in the late nights between him and the female agent... Whispers. "I remember her.'

 

"Must have been special, then," Q whispered, and odd sensation curling at the pit of his stomach. Bond remembered her. 

 

"We had a steady arrangement... For years. When in London or when on missions together..." He said, fingering the straps of the back pack.

 

Q nodded. He supposed he had caught wind of something about this, here and there, briefly. So this was the confirmation. It was a silly thing but there had been a bet going on about this around the office before. About who Bond was with outside of work, and well, not that he would tell James this because that would just seem rather... unseemly right then, when he hadn't recalled the entirety of the old MI6 for what it had been, but had the bet been going on then Q was more or less sure he would've won a considerable amount to pay for the takeouts for him and his minions. 

 

But that was in the past now.

 

"A grip on sanity, I suppose?" 

 

"Sex with someone who doesn't want you dead... A rare commodity..." He smiled thinly. "She was a good woman... I trusted her..."

 

"She is..." Q agreed. It still made quite an awkward introduction though when the hacker you rescued later on became a quartermaster for the Double-ohs, but they got over it quickly, Karen was wonderful, and working with her had been a pleasure. "Anyone else who had made quite a lasting impression?" he asked, turning to Bond. 

 

"Well, you're making a good one now - does that count?" Bond asked with a smile. "I don't know... I'm still trying to draw links between names and places... It gets confusing.  "

 

"I just happened to turn up at the right place and right time, you mean," Q chuckled, but still, Bond thinking that he was making a "lasting impression?" Flattering would be the word. Maybe. "Don't worry, as soon as we find a place to plug-in with at least a bit of connection, I can show you the faces and their names, maybe that will help you—" Q almost jumped when he thought he saw something slither past in the nearby bushes. Almost. 

 

Good thing he hadn't yelped like a schoolgirl—frozen with fear as they said. However, whatever that was, it didn't stop for them, and had gone on it's way. Goddamn it, Q thought exasperatedly, wiped his forehead, and rolled his eyes. "Sorry."

 

James paused for Q, his eyes darting into the shadows as he watched for whatever danger Q had spotted. The shift in him was subtle as breeze, but deadly as a coiled spring.

 

"What is it?"

 

Q swallowed and shook his head. "It's nothing. I just thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye," he muttered in reply, taking off his glasses to wipe the lenses a little. "Don't worry."

 

The reaction was instinctual, ingrained in him as deeply as breathing. James closed his eyes for a long moment… and let the tension in him slip away, but the awareness seemed to remain in him. He had always been very aware of his surroundings, even when exhausted, even when in pain… even when his skull felt like it was cracking in two… he always had awareness.

 

It was clear that Bond had still gotten it—the instinct and awareness of a someone who had been in danger for the most part of his life—somewhere deep inside of him. It was the kind of instinct that would keep them alive in situations like these, but would make a bad company should the man want a normal life. The intense concentration that Bond had right then was starkly different from the how vulnerable he had been when nightmares had still gotten grip of his mind just hours ago.

 

Everything that had happened back then seemed almost unreal... like a dream or something.

 

"Come on," he breathed softly, placing a hand on the older man's bicep. "It's probably nothing, James. We should get going so we'd make it to the next village by sundown."

 

James turned and twisted. One arm slid around Q, and half dragged him out the road. James crouched, one arm holding Q steady, the other clamped over his mouth as voices rose up... And the braying of donkeys.

 

Q's eyes widened at the sudden shift of event, for a second there not catching up with Bond's arms sliding around his body while the man's other hand covering up his mouth. No protest was raised though, not when foreign voices along with the sound of donkeys were ringing from a distance away. His heart sped up, nerves kicking in, and he barely realized how close he was pressed up against Bond. 

 

Pressed to Q's back as he was, James was aware of how... Small the boy was. How thin, and how little there was of him. He was pressed against him, holding him flush.

 

"Shhh..." Bond mouthed in his ear.

 

The moment he noticed he could feel's Bond's thumping heartbeat seeping into the flesh of his back was when Q realized just how close they were to one another. There should be nothing surprising about how solid the man was, pressed up against him, but the briefest sense of awe still washed over him, and God, he didn't just shiver at Bond's whispered hush, the hot breath brushing just right at the shell of his ear.

 

Q's toes curled and nodded, not making a sound. 

 

"What is it?" Bond murmurs until his ear and uncovered his mouth slowly. "Speak quietly."

 

Q swallowed and shook his head. "It's nothing..." he breathed, glad that the man's hand was finally lifted from his mouth. It was then that the people with donkeys appeared in their field of vision from among all the trees and bushes, and Q's brows furrowed. He didn't know anyone of them, but did Bond?

 

It turned out that they were locals going about their business but even so, Bond stayed well hidden until they had long passed. Instinct couldn't be touched, it seemed. He let Q go slowly.

 

During that while, Q realized two things: those people obviously couldn't have been a threat, and he was acutely aware of whatever shift that was going through Bond's body right then with how close they were. It was rather embarrassing.

 

"Thanks," he said as the man let him go slowly. Somehow, he didn't pull away immediately. Had those people been anyone else other than the locals, Bond would've saved them from lots of troubles. 

 

“You're welcome,” James said as he rose and offered Q a hand to pull him up… just as a lemur dropped out the trees and onto Q’s back with an indignant squeak.

 

Q was reaching for Bond's hand when he felt a sudden weight land on his back, accompanied by a rather unsettling squeak. His eyes were wide, and he unconsciously squeezed the fingers he was holding on to. "J-James?" Q tried not to move, the fur and small movements on his back sending dreadful chills down his spine. Suddenly, he remembered why he didn't like the wilds. "What is that?" He hadn't seen what had landed on his back, but he had had quite a good guess himself. 

 

“Just a monkey,” One arm slid around Q’s waist, the other reached around and shooed the monkey away from him. It chattered and jumped down, scampering away excitedly. “I should imagine that a lot of them become tame… if it smelt food,” he was pressed up against him, looking down at Q.

 

Q wondered if he should be thankful that it was a monkey as he had thought it was. But the creature scrambled away quickly enough when Bond calmly shooed it away with his hand as though this was the most normal thing in the world. But Q caught himself just then—perhaps this was a normal things. The man had been here, on an island full of monkeys, for a year already. 

 

He looked up at Bond, the man's eyes bright under the sunlight, sharp and intense as they had always been. It was as he had imagined Bond had looked like back when he was still 007, going on missions of killing and wreaking havoc. "I suppose so," he replied quietly. However, had the lemur not jumped on his back so suddenly, he wouldn't have been frozen by the animal. But that was not the focus of Q's mind right then, to be honest, now when their bodies were pressed up against one another again, that is. 

 

James looked down at Q, his eyes glittering and he smiled. His fingers rose... And touched down his cheek lightly.

 

Q's stomach clenched at the sight of that smile (a voice inside his mind whispered in reminder of his own comment about Bond's charming ability), and a flush of heat spread up from his neck when the calloused pads of those fingers reached up to touch his cheek. 

 

Bond drew back suddenly. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing, getting intimate with this man. James blushed and looked away, furious at himself. He was attracted to him, damn it.

 

Q's eyes fluttered; he pursed his lips for a moment before he reached out to brush his fingers over Bond's turned cheek. "James?" he whispered.

 

James exhaled softly. "Walk away, Q... Walk away before I do something really, really stupid..."

 

But it wasn't like Q to back down, not when they were something so close to... whatever this was. "Like what?" 

 

James moved... And he kissed him. It was nothing like the kiss he had done for show... Hell, James Bond knew how to put on a show. This was... Full of fire and heat, a want that couldn't be sated. James backed him into a tree and captured his wrists, pinning them to his side's. His mouth slowed enough to give Q the options. Kiss back? Pull away?

 

Q wouldn't say he hadn't expected what was happening, but he was still rather taken aback as the sense of surprise washed over him like a wave. However, that changed quickly, shifting into something else entirely—more intense and heated and dizzying. His breath hitched a little when Bond pinned him to a tree, seizing his wrists, and Q didn't need to be told to kiss back, responding in kind.

 

Bond groaned, a primal, needy sound as he released the wrists of the young man and his arms slid about him, pulling him against his body.

 

Q was internally glad that Bond had let go of him as he latched on to the other man. They were pressed tight against one another, sweat and alertness and need, and his hands were holding on tightly to Bond's back, moaning into the kiss. 

 

Bond was kissing him back, hungry, open mouthed kisses as he ran his hands over the boy’s back, touching... Tasting. His tongue pushed into the man's mouth, and it dissolved into a slow bump and grind.

 

Q gasped when he felt hands roaming over his back, his hands sliding from back to front before reaching for the older man's jaw, feeling the stubborn angles and allowing his fingers to dip into that hairline. It was then that Bond's tongue pushed inside his mouth, and he did the same. Bond had an earthy taste to him, a blend of the wine they had been offered last night, intoxicating, and something else as well, something raw and unique.

 

Bond broke the kiss, having to come up for air, the protest on his lips. "We can't... We shouldn't…” Then he was kissing him again as the protests died.

 

Q's chest rose and fell, trying to breathe and feeling rather lightheaded at the same time. His grips on Bond tightened, not comprehending the protests when he could see so clear the fire burning in those striking blue depths. "Why not?" he questioned, fear spiking from the pit of his fluttering stomach, and was answered by another vigorous kiss, and that was all he needed to know. 

 

James eventually pulled back, and pressed his forehead against Q's. His breaths were slow and deep, his face as flushed as Q's as he looked up, searching those green eyes... And looked away as his were full of shame.

 

Q didn't like that shame that he saw in there, in every feature and expression, and he held on, not wanting for the other man to turn away. Right then, he pushed away all of his own worries and wondering and focused on Bond instead. "James?" he whispered. "What's wrong?"

 

"People are trying to kill me and I am kissing you..." He shook his head. "It's selfishness at best…”

 

Q sighed, but something inside of him uncoiled upon hearing the answer, as he reached up to gently direct Bond's face back to look at him. "People are trying to kill us and I am kissing you, too," he replied firmly, pausing for a second before continuing. "There's nothing selfish about that when reciprocating is involved."

 

James sighed and took his face in his hand, and slowly pressed his mouth too it lightly. Slower... Softer.

 

Q responded, too, at eased that Bond was kissing him and had listened to him once more instead of shoving everything away due to his own stubbornness. He kissed back. 

 

In the end, Bond pulled back and offered Q his hand. "Come on, you," he said quietly. "Let's get to the next village..."

 

Q adjusted his glasses, looked at the offered hand—sweaty with a bit of dirt stain and calloused—and took it, smiling in amusement at the quiet words that left Bond's lips. It was as though he had planned what had just transpired between them or something.

 

Technically, he did sort of push it, but that wasn't the point right then.

  
"Let's," he agreed, nodding and squeezing Bond's hand.


	8. Chapter 8

The heated kiss was soon ancient history as they walked, and far too soon, they were covered in sweat and grime, and it was hard not to get grouchy at each other. The lack of sleep was most definitely catching up with Bond at least.

 

It was early evening by the time a small town came into view, not the village that he had expected. "It will be far more likely to have eyes that we don't want to see us," growled Bond, "but it should have a hotel."

 

Q expected no less, to be honest, given the situation they were in. In fact, it would have been a concern had Bond been anything less than a snappish, snarky arse, not with how little sleep he had gotten the night before and prior to this entire ordeal itself. Q didn't fare any better, really, but at least he had slept better than the other man so far. 

 

His eyes surveyed around, and he nodded. "Well, better this than nothing I suppose." He sighed, rubbing the sweat from his eyelids and turning to Bond. "Come on." 

 

As Bond said, there was a hotel in town, just as small as the town itself. Q observed for surveillance cameras as they walked into the front desk. There was only one visible in a corner, and that was all he needed to know, really.

 

They selected a room together, which obviously upset the woman behind the desk. They went up and dumped the backpack before James turned to the younger male.

 

"If I have any chance of sleeping tonight, I need to get drunk." The statement, the fact in his words was chilling.

 

The room was mediocre at best, and Q told himself that he sort of understood why the woman behind the front desk was so visibly upset. Who would regularly frequent this place? Not to mention it being in a secluded area even. 

 

But that was just his exhaustion speaking. In the morning, the mean words would still be there, but not in the forefront of his mind like this. Yes.

 

He was carefully putting his knapsack down when his ears caught what Bond said. Quietly, he turned to regard the man, not liking the words, but not denying it either. He had seen what nighttime terrors could do to Bond, and they sure as Hell needed shut eye that night should they want to continue on with their journey in the almost unbearable rainforest without collapsing the upcoming day. Before they could actually find a solution to this problem... this would have to be a temporary measure. Even so, Q couldn't imagine it being implemented much. 

 

"Then we should grab a bite first," he suggested almost casually. 

 

Bond’s nod was more of a jerk of the head, stiff and formal. Did he regret the kiss that was more then happily returned? It seemed as if he did, but as they stepped out together and James placed a hand at the base of his spine, on the small of his back, there was something highly possessive about that touch. Possessive, as if staking a claim.

 

Q tried not to think too much about the kiss—or should that be kisses?—that they had shared and the slight shift in Bond's attitude and behavior to him afterwards. Or how Bond had protested halfway through that they shouldn't even be kissing in the first place. No, he was trying hard not to think about that, about what sort of thought Bond was having right then about him, about them. Instead, he channeled his energy into thinking about how fucked up this situation they were in was.

 

However, that always led back to the question of whether Bond actually wanted to kiss him or not if it hadn't been for the 'intimacy' they sort of shared because of this and that and how Q had sort of pushed him toward that edge. It was a vicious cycle, really.

 

Which made him look up at Bond for a moment when he felt the man's hand settle on the small of his back as they locked their room and walked down the corridor together. Somehow, Q's lips quirked up into a rather amused smile as they went on the hunt for food and something to get Bond drunk. In retrospect, he supposed he had never seen a drunk Bond, so this would either make good observation or not. 

 

They found a quiet little hole in the wall restaurant that had no sign, but served Indonesian home cooked food. They were shown to a quiet little table and although there were other people, it was quiet. Bond rolled up his sleeves and undid the top button. He didn't look at the menu, instead he spoke in a quiet fluent Indonesian, and soon dishes were being served to them.

 

Bond stretched back in his chair and watched, relaxed and confident... Much more then he felt, but he knew how to act.

 

Q did make sense of the menu while appreciating the quietness of the place as well as their spot. It was sort of an entertainment, guessing which translated English word matched with which Indonesian one, but Bond's rolling up his sleeves and undoing the top button was tampering with his concentration, and when the server looked at him expectantly after Bond had more likely than not just ordered for them both in his fluent, quiet tongue of the natives, Q sighed, flashed the briefest of smile, and handed the menu back to the man as he walked away to the kitchen.

 

Honestly, the man looked more relaxed in this sort of environment. Or so Q thought, but what didn't fit was how somewhat differently Bond had acted just before this, and it wasn't such a wild guess on his part to make and wager that this was most probably just a guise. 

 

"So what's your choice of poison for the night?" he asked casually, wondering if the man would opt for a beer or something else. 

 

James smirked a little as a bottle was put in the table in front of them, and two shot glasses, still chilled from where they had been on ice.

 

"Tequila good for you? These islands are famous for it," and they had a bottle to share. He poured Q a glass.

 

"Let's just say I'll tread carefully with it," Q replied, eyeing the chilled bottle with a hint of wariness. Bond wasn't jesting when he said he wanted to get drunk. 

 

Bond grinned a little at that. "Lightweight?" He teased, a question in his words

 

"Couldn't you tell?" Q drawled, eyes narrowing with a halfhearted glare as he picked up the glass Bond had poured for him, looking at the sloshing liquid inside.

 

"I can't remember you particularly well before Bali. I only saw you drink beer," he said as he picked up the glass... And downed it in one large gulp.

 

"Thought you'd figured it out with me avoiding anything strong like the plague," Q chuckled, watching as Bond's Adam's apple bobbed as it work, before sipping it some himself, feeling the burn the liquid left as it washed down his throat. 

 

"See you lose control completely..." He snorted and poured Q another glass. "You never know what you're missing unless you try it," he said sagely.

 

Q snorted back. "And risk a hangover with headaches and everything the next day? No, thanks." Even so, he still accepted the shot Bond poured him. 

 

“A hangover isn’t as bad as they say,” he said patiently, and downed his glass, before he picked up the grilled prawns and shovelled several onto his plate and then went for the noodles.

 

Q blinked and chuckled. "I guess you, of all people, should know that," he said, serving himself a bit of the grilled squid. "But since I got kidnapped the last time I got drunk..." he muttered in a lighthearted voice, "I have been a bit wary of it. And the hangover the following morning didn't quite help the situation."

 

“I promise not to let anyone kidnap you if you get drunk, nor to let you make a complete and total fool out of yourself,” he tucked into the fish, eating slowly, watching him with a lion's gaze. A gaze that had unnerved many people over  the years.

 

"Lovely," Q said, "I have no fear now, then." He couldn't say he was quelled by the sharp, intense gaze, but there was something about it that actually drew him into looking at those eyes some more, rather than turning away from them due to nerves. 

 

Bond looked up to catch Q watching him with a curious gaze. “What?” he asked thoughtfully, as he bit into another prawn.

 

"Nothing," Q replied quickly, reaching for the noodles and getting himself some. It reminded him of long days back in university, eating nothing but instant ramen to get over with meals. Not the healthiest of ways, but really, he was still rather fond of it. Noodles in general, that is. "Yourself?" he asked back, Bond had been looking himself. 

 

“Partially wondering if this is some joke by the locals still… insane enough to believe that it isn’t, but I keep wishing. Wondering why you kissed me back, especially as you’re a more… senior position than me… also, how the hell are you younger than me?”

 

Whatever Q had expected, it wasn't those questions. He understood the man's need to consider the option that all of these were just... some sort of joke or dream. He knew, he had gone through something similar himself. As for the other two questions... "Because you're attractive and charming?" he said slowly, blinking owlishly with a small amused smile on his lips. "Even if I'm, was, your quartermaster. And hackers these days tend to be young."

 

Attractive and charming, compliments that he could most definitely live with. James smiled thinly and closed his eyes for a moment before he poured them both another glass of the liquid. He held it up in a toast. “To survival,” he said after a moment's thoughts.

 

"To survival," Q said, toasting as well. It wasn't until they were done with that shot that he voiced up his question, one reminiscenced of their past conversation a couple years ago. "Problem with youth?" He asked. And despite the small smile he had, he was wondering deep down whether he had crossed some sort of line somewhere in regard to James's age standard or something... even though that seemed highly unthinkable.

 

“In relation to seniority or sex?” he asked with a wry grin.

 

"How about both?" Q asked back, trying to hide the hint of heat he could feel creeping up the nape of his neck. 

 

"You're blushing," he teased and leant over to pour Q another shot of tequila. "If you still blush when you talk about sex then you have not had enough alcohol... Besides, why does it matter?"

 

Q cleared his throat, and tried not to avoid Bond's eyes. "And you have?" He smirked. "But well, I don't know. You wondered about my age, and I just wonder back is all." He thanked the man and downed his tequila, too. Maybe he really hadn't had enough to drink in a long while after all. 

 

“I have been called many things, kid… If I end up with you naked next to me, I don’t want to be called a cradle snatcher… and besides, I am sure the woman… Moneypenny, was it? If I get you hurt, she will kill me.”

 

"Cradle snatcher?" Q raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "Don't worry. If it comes to me being naked next to you, you won't be labeled as such." He quirked a smile at that bit about Moneypenny. "You've never hurt me, James," he whispered, "or anyone you care about, given the choice." 

 

James looked up at him… and the smile was bitter. “Yeah…  but people around me get hurt all the time… just for being around me…” he smiled, thin and sad. “I remember that much…”

 

Q knew, he understood what Bond was talking about, and he let out a small sigh. "Not all times have to be like any other time," he said quietly. Didn't mean he had to be the exception, didn't mean he was going to be the one who wouldn't be hurt in the end, but... that didn't matter right then. Not really. 

 

"Q..." He sighed. "We both know that it is a bad idea. You're young, I'm... Me... Now eat your dinner," he said thoughtfully.

 

"Is it a bad idea because I'm young then?" Q asked back, twisting the words around. "Why is age even an issue?" His brows furrowed a miffed gesture. "And I am eating my dinner." He picked up and chew a piece of squid as if to demonstrate his point. 

 

"It's an issue because you're young, you're smart and if you had anything that resembled brains, you would be running. I am dangerous and you know that. Not because of... What I do... But I'm dangerous to you," his voice, which had been harsh, softened a little, " and I think you know that."

 

"How is it you're dangerous to me?" Q pushed. Because he had no patience. Because he wanted to hear Bond say it. "I told you..." his voice softened, too. "I understand machinery and technology more than I do people." 

 

"Exactly... And you have already said that you find me charming," Bond said quietly. "Because I doubt it would be hard to manipulate you..." He said softly.

 

Q laughed a mirthless laugh. "Manipulate me?" He asked, voice calm but something inside of him was seizing. "Why, may I ask, are you considering to manipulate me?" 

 

"Because I want to take you to the bed and fuck you senseless," Bond said in a low, growling voice.

 

Q paused. "How is that considered manipulation when we've already kissed and I've told you that I find you charming and attractive? I thought it was something that people called, 'consent.'"  

 

He bristled a little and looked down at his dinner.  He paused and poured himself another shot of tequila, before downing it in one. "Kissing was a mistake..." But he really wanted to do it again.

 

Q reached for the bottle when Bond set it down, and poured himself another shot as well. He needed some alcohol for this. "A mistake?" he echoed, mouth twitching, before downing the liquor, barely reacting to the burn that was gradually easing out. "You seemed to have enjoyed it a lot for it to have been a mistake." 

 

"Some of the best mistakes are some of the ones we enjoy the most - eat your dinner," he grumbled as he poured another glass.

 

Q could feel the anger boiling underneath his skin. "For God's sake, stop telling me to eat my dinner, I'm not a child!" He growled, stopping himself from raising his voice. He took a moment to recompose himself before continuing, "So you're telling me that everything is a mistake because I'm just too young for you?" He asked, his voice quiet with icy anger. 

 

James fixed him with a hard look. "Because I watch people I don't remember die on a nightly basis... I don't want to add a familiar face to those night terrors."

 

"You talk like I'm about to drop dead at any second," Q muttered, not backing down in his annoyance and frustration. He rubbed his face and stabbed at his noodles before eating them, swallowing down tastelessly.

 

James was trying to back down. "What do you want me to say, Q? That casual unattached sex can get us through this?"

 

"That's better than hearing that everything was a mistake," Q whispered. Really, even though he understood where Bond was coming from, the sting of rejection still burnt. He knew he wasn't a failure, but sometimes, it was difficult to not think in such a way. 

 

James caught his wrist and tugged him towards him, his other hand darting out to stop him from falling. James kissed him. Hard. A savage, bestial kiss before he broke away, biting his lip hard. It was just on the right side of violent and James was angry… 

 

Q's stomach seized, his eyes widened when his lips crushed against Bond's own. There was nothing soft about this kiss, just teeth and bursting desire and a dizzying sense that made him lightheaded. The man's grips on him were tight and searing, and he couldn't even respond even until they broke apart. 

 

He stared at Bond, James, for a long moment, the taste of those lips and tequila still on his tongue, before saying quietly, "Please don't tell me this is just another mistake."

 

"Yes, more then likely," James said but he was kissing him anyway. His shoulders, which had been rigid with tension seemed to sag... As if resigned, or to say fuck it.

 

Q pursed his lips, but yes, they were kissing anyway, and he didn't know what to do, what to say, or how to react, but the only thing he really couldn't stand was the labeling of this being nothing more than just a bloody mistake. 

 

He couldn't help but sigh when James's shoulders finally sagged, and while he wasn't sure if that were that he had been expecting, but that had been more than he had ever expected, least of all from James Bond. 

 

James drew back, nuzzling down his throat. "Back to the hotel?" He growled.

 

Q groaned, shivering somewhat with Bond's touch at one of his sensitive spots. "Okay," he breathed. 

 

Bond made him eat first, and most of the bottle was gone… more to him then Q.

 

Somehow, they managed to get back to the hotel, having payed. Bond backed Q into the room, mouth slanted over his in a heated kiss, kicking the door closed in the process.

 

Q clung to Bond, having only vague ideas how they had managed to get back to the hotel. His hands roamed all over Bond's firm, solid body, the heat curling around his lungs. He directed them over to the bed, trying to peel the clothes from the older man's body. 

 

James groaned, kicking the door shut as Q tugged him towards the bed. He slid his shirt up over his head and dropped it aside.

 

Q licked his lips, leaning in to kiss and nibble at junction of neck and shoulder exposed before his eyes, tasting Bond's skin and reaching down to his clavicles. 

 

With a deep sigh, his fingers slid over the buttons on the front of his shirt, sliding down, tearing up them open. His touch trailed, teased, brushing open nipples as he found them.

 

Q was a little too bleary to take notice if any button had gone missing or not, but right then, he didn't care. Not when Bond's hands were brushing across his skin and teasing his nipples so. He groaned, arching into the touches, trailing kisses down the man's chest, teeth grazing softly over skin, and fingers feeling for the solid, thrumming muscles under them. 

 

James' legs hit the back of the bed and he sat with a grunt. He reached forwards and hooked a hand around his leg, drawing him onto his lap, straddling him as he captured his mouth in another scorching kiss.

 

Q happily fell into Bond's lap, leaning into yet another kiss as he sighed and began rocking his hips. 

 

"Tease," he growled as he nibbled his lower lip. This was a spectacularly bad idea and they both knew it, but it didn't stop the almost violent tugs to his belt before he opened it.

 

"Speak for yourself," Q muttered back in reply, the bitter taste of the word 'mistake' and 'regret' still rolling on his tongue. But Bond was overriding that, he was overriding his own effects, and he supposed he could live with it just fine. 

 

He licked his lips and began to fumble with his belt, too. 

 

James eased that bitter taste by sucking on his tongue before twisting and pushing him back into the bed so he could sweep Q's trousers down.

 

A good enough method, sucking on his tongue, Q had to admit, and the air escaped his lungs somewhat when his back swiftly met the mattress, hissing when his trousers were peeled off of his skin in one sweeping move. He reached up to fix his glasses a bit, wanting to see Bond for as much as he could. 

 

He moved like a predator, body lithe with muscles and hardly an ounce of fight. He crawled up Q, kissing and nipping gently, establishing a route over the young man's body, learning it… learning every inch of him.

 

Q's skin scrawled, he gasped softly, Bond's predatory look and movements were consuming, toes curling as the places on which those lips touched burnt like a warm coals. He tried reaching his arms out to hold on to Bond, wanting to entice the other man more, too. 

 

Bond frowned at Q holding him... Why was he being held? Dipping his head, he kissed his neck, his jaw, his throat... Anything he could reach.

 

The expression on Bond's face made him pursed his lips to stop a laugh from coming out, his hands began working to caress and touch every inch of skin he could, sliding down to pinch the man's nipples, desire building up in his veins. 

 

He hissed at that slight flare of pain - oh, he liked that - and he slid forward, pressing his groin against Q's, merciless and hungry.

 

His breath hitched a small, soft strangled sound at that, and Q lifted up his legs, knees trailing and brushing along Bond's sides. 

 

Bond paused and rolled, pulling Q onto him. Maybe he didn't remember, but James had no idea what an honour he was giving Q at that movement.

 

Q did, though, as he knew and had seen how Bond work—the man had always wanted some sort of control. He paused briefly before descending on the other man, kissing and nibbling at his neck, sucking on his Adam's apple. "James?" he whispered softly. "How do you want to do this?" he asked, needing to make sure what was going on here. 

 

"Well we both get an orgasm out of this," he replied as his head went back. The wolf exposing his throat.

 

"I've gathered that much," Q said in a half-teasing tone, rolling his eyes. That was hardly a reply. But he didn't waste his time sucking some more on that exposed column of neck, groaning at how Bond was exposing himself like this before trailing down, peppering kisses all over that tan, taunt skin, and taking one nipple between his teeth. 

 

Bond hissed and arched under the touch. His hand went to Q's hair, a low curse on his tongue.

 

Q smirked, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub while his hands slipped down to squeeze Bond's arse, feeling the firm globe of flesh and smooth skin in his grasps. 

 

Bond growled and took back power by dumping Q onto his back. His exploration of the smaller body was rough, raw... Full of kisses and  biting teeth, roaming hands and nails that raised lines of fire. He eased down Q's boxers, and tossed them aside before taking him in.

 

Their positions were switched again, and Bond's rough exploration made his toes curl as the heat of arousal swirled more and more intense at the pit of his stomach. He held on to the other man, kissing and sucking at every possible place he could as well, and hissed when his boxer was stripped from him mercilessly. And Q gasped, arching into Bond. 

 

Bond liked what he saw. He appreciated the soft curves of a woman but there was something about the sharp, angular features of Q that had him shoving his own trousers. They were both sticky, hot and sweaty and a thought intruded into Bonds brain.

 

"Protection?" He asked as he palmed Q roughly. He hadn't exactly been celibate since he vanished off the face of the earth.

 

Q moaned, the expression on Bond's face heightening his senses that much more, and the rough touches weren't helping. His eyes fluttered for a moment at the question, and nodded. "Yes, protection." But for a moment there, he wondered if they had any or not. He certain didn't have one himself, never having thought this trip would actually result into such an end, and hopefully, the hotel had some in store should Bond not have one himself. 

 

Of course Bond didn't have anything like that. Why would he? His self worth had never exactly been legendary and his year in confusion hadn't helped. Bond pressed a kiss over Qs mouth. "Wait right here," he growled as he slid away, doing his belt up and slipping out the room, pulling his shirt on.

 

For a moment there, Q was tempted to just hold Bond back, but the kiss both muffled and cleared his mind somewhat as he watched the man saunter out of the room. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face. 

 

When the fog was cleared from his mind a little, he couldn't believe this was happening. Between him and Bond that was... But it was, and he didn't regret it. or maybe that was the tequila talking. But he didn't, and he could only hope that Bond could feel the same. 

 

Bond returned, looking smug and self assured, and the look in his eyes said that his mission had been successful. He tossed the small packet and the sachet of lube on to the bed besides Q.

 

"Now... Where were we?"

 

Q smirked at the smug look on Bond's face, pulling the other man closer onto the bed and capture his lips. "Somewhere around the part where you claimed you would fuck me senseless, I believe," he teased.

 

"Claimed?" He snorted. "I should point out that you're naked... I have clothes on..."

 

Q huffed, his fingers already slipping down to undo the buttons on Bond's shirt. "What does it matter if that'd change soon?" 

 

"I am hoping that you would remedy this sooner rather than later," he said as he nibbled his neck, shrugging off his shirt.

 

"You need not worry then." Q craned his neck and moaned, helping Bond push up his shirt up so the man could shrug it off more easily. 

 

Bond did so, and slid out of his trousers and boxers until he stood in front of Q, grizzled and scarred.

 

His eyes never left Bond, trailing over the scars and healed wounds, before leaning in and pressed a kiss to that wound on the man's chest that seemed the most severe... most probably where Moneypenny had shot him, before sliding his hands down to draw Bond closer. "Come on," he whispered. 

 

"Come on what?" He whispered between slow kisses, pulling him into his arms. He bit down on his neck, and his hand slid around to grip Q's length with a slow stroke.

 

What he was about to say dispersed like smoke, and Q shivered, unable to hold back a small whimper, as he ran his hands over Bond's bare torso, gripping a little tightly and holding on. 

 

He guided him back onto the bed, kissing, parting Q's legs to sweep his hands between his legs. He reached for the lube.

 

Q let out a breathy breath, hissing and arching when Bond's rough, calloused hand brushed over his sensitive inner thighs, swallowing thickly with heart pounding an incessant, loud beat in his chest. 

 

Bond dipped his mouth and kissed and nuzzled against his hips, parting his legs. "You okay?" He asked quietly as and slid a lubricated finger inside him.

 

Q whimpered, his hands sliding into Bond's hair. That area was really too sensitive for him. "Yeah," he breathed, nodding before grunting a little at the slick intrusion of the other man's finger inside of him. "Sorry," he whispered. "It's been a while." 

 

Bond smiled and slid it out. "You're okay..." He said as he stretched him, slow and gentle, meeting his mouth with tender kisses.

 

Somehow, the tenderness washed over him in a soft sense of surprise. He returned the kisses, focusing his mind onto that and that alone—on those lips and the lingering taste of tequila—in order to relax his body, wounding his arms around Bond to keep the man close. 

 

He felt his body began to relax around him, and Bond grinned. Suddenly, Bond was impatient to be inside him. He pulled back onto his knees to slip the condom on himself.

 

Q licked his lips, his eyelids fluttering, and pulled back his thighs, spreading his legs as he watched Bond slip the condom over him. 

 

Bond looked down at him. "Ready?" He asked as he lazily stroked himself.

 

His breath quickened another notched. Bond was stroking himself so lazily that his lips couldn't but quirk up a bit. "Yeah." He nodded. 

 

James crawled over him and pressed his lips to Q's, drawing his hips up to him. He soothed him with kisses, pushing the head of his erection slowly.

 

Q grunted and squeezed his eyes shut, the burn of James's entry making him tense up again that bit more. The kisses were soothing, though, and he clung to that and on to the other man. 

 

Bond ran his nose along the length of his, blue eyes peering down into green. He curled around him, waiting until he relaxed, and then sheathed himself in the boy, and he wasn’t gentle. Bond swore softly, closing his eyes.

 

For a moment there, Q was consumed by the fire he could see in those eyes, and the intense heat in his stomach coiled as he took in a deep breath and willed himself to relax. He cursed under his breath and James pushed all the way in, the tip of his cock brushing at his prostate, sending a burst of pleasure running up his spine. Letting out a heavy breath, he captured those lips for another kiss before murmuring breathlessly as it broke, "Move, James."

 

Bond groaned and rocked his hips. "Thought you would never ask," and slanted his mouth over Q's in a rhythmic motion.

 

Q gasped, the burn and pleasure fire throughout the nerve ends of his entire body. He spread his legs and hooked them behind James, giving the man more access and urging him on as well. 

 

James responded eagerly, staring a rolling motion with his hips over and over and over again.

 

Q lifted his hips up as much as he could, his arms wrapping around James's back, blunt nails unwittingly digging into the man's flesh. He bit his lip, trying to hold back obscene noises from escaping out of his throat. 

 

"Is this... Fuck... Alright?" He was tight, very tight. Bond shivered against him, skin almost feverish.

 

"Yes," Q replied breathlessly, swallowing back gasp. "This fuck is very all right." He couldn't help but chuckle, pulling James down to nibble at the crook of his neck, sucking and kissing it. 

 

"Yes sir," he growled a response, nipping his jaw. One hand slid between them and he started to stroke Q slowly.

 

Q laughed a breathy sound, letting out a small, pitched hiss and James started stroking him in rhythm to the angled thrusts as well, and he threw his head back with a shudder, exposing his throat. It was a little awkward, but he wasn’t sure that he cared.

 

Bond took advantage with neck kisses, sucking gently, encouraging him forwards.

 

Goosebumps spread all over his body, and Q growled tightening his hold around the other man. "Faster," he whispered fervently, kissing James again and staring into the fire in those blue eyes. 

 

James groaned. Apparently the power of speech was lost to him and he moaned his pleasure into Q's ear as he stopped trying to control his movements. One hand came down at the side of Q's head and he started to thrust.

 

Q wasn't faring any better, and James's labored, hot breaths into his ears were sending wildfires through his senses, and Q whimpered, pulling the other man closer reflexively. He arched at the sharp thrust, pleasure spanning out in a way that reminded him of how milk twined and swirled in coffee at the first moment of contact, and leaned into that hand on the side of his head. 

 

James kissed him. Slow, sweet kisses that coaxed and encouraged, soothed and enticed. His tongue stroked Q's as sparks of pleasure coursed through him. He shifted his hips, so the next stroke slid over the prostate

 

Q returned the sensual kiss, nibbling on those lips, as they shared the same breath and same body of air. He let out a tiny, hitched breath when James finally brushed over his prostate once more. His legs opened that bit wider, ankles hooking a little firmer, in a silent inviting encouragement. 

 

Movement became more erratic, as breaths became harsher. Bond absolutely refused to let himself come first as he sucked on Q's lip. He could feel the tremors that ran through his partners body. His hand matched his motions, stroking him gently, slowly getting faster.

 

Q's heartbeat and rushing blood were so loud, he could barely hear anything else past their heavy, lust laden breaths. Distantly, he was sure his lips were kiss swollen, but he didn't think he minded that, because moments like these were when he could pretend that perhaps this tenderness, this intimacy would last... and that James, the man above and inside him right then, wouldn't go back to keeping himself away from him and calling this, all of this, nothing more than mere mistakes. 

 

But God, he was getting close, and the matched motions and stroking weren't really helping it. 

 

He could see the tension building, could see the motions that were driving the young man man. He shifted again and hooked a hand behind his knees, pushing him back so he could meet that he could drive harder, faster, forcing him towards oblivion. "Come... For me..." He rasped.

 

Maybe he was going mad, this whole thing being what it was, Q thought to himself, the all consuming heat rising in his blood and boiling over, erasing many things from his usually over-working mind. He grunted and shifted, letting James pushed him back until his thighs were flushed against his chest, body almost bending in half. But it was all good and wonderful, and he had a feeling that this was what they called being fucked senseless into the bed sheets... Admittedly, it was better than what he had expected. 

 

Their gasped and moans clung to one another as much as their bodies did, and Q whimpered, forcing his eyes to stay open instead of falling shut. He had always believed more in observation, anyway. 

 

He was too far gone to respond to that command in any visible, coherent way, nothing that his own physical reactions hadn't shown, to be honest. Moaning, he arched and drew the other man closer, meeting and pushing back avidly with every thrust. 

 

And he did, he did come for James, a small cry escaping his lips and blinding white flashing before his eyes. 

 

Muscles clenched and pulsed and for a hot, sweet moment and it almost hurt with the intensity. His toes curled as Q cried out and Bond took that as his sign to move. He drove into him. Once. Twice. Three times before he came and he came hard.

 

A thready, broken cry that whited his vision for a few intense moments.

 

He barely felt James moving for the last three times, but he did notice it when the solid form towering above him seized from all its movements and the heat inside of him pulsed hot and verging on the right side of unbearable, and Q supposed he should be glad of his coming first because at that moment in time... he managed to see for the first time what sort of expression James had, lost in ecstasy. 

 

He let out a choked breath, still holding tightly onto the other man. 

 

When he could see again, Bond became aware of the expression on the young man's face. There was something... There. Something sweet and that he had to kiss it until it went away.

 

Shivering, Bond pulled his hips away, taking and tying off the condom. Q didn't leave his grip though. He settled beside him, pressed close. "Sleep..."

 

Q shifted when James pulled out, the dissipating sensation of fullness making him clench a little. But somehow, the fact that the other man never once entirely let go of him eased something inside of him, and Q let out a small sigh when James settled back down. "Okay," he whispered, turning his head over to look at James, already partially drifting off. "Goodnight." 

 

James pressed his lips against Q's jaw and spooned behind him. "Good night," he whispered and with that, Bond slept.

  
Q smiled faintly at the kiss, hand reaching down to hold onto James's arm draping over his body. 


	9. Chapter 9

They slept, peacefully, that night, strange images fluttered behind his closed eyelids of white sand, cerulean sky, and emerald waves... Someone was standing not too far away. 

 

It was James, and he was holding a snorkeling set in his hand. The man was saying something but he really couldn't make out the words.

 

And Q woke up at that. 

 

The sun was in the sky when he woke and the fan on the roof spun lazily. The room was quiet, although noises could be heard outside.

 

James was still fast asleep, wrapped around Q like ivy. Both arms were around him, one leg had been pushed between Q's. His breaths rose and fell slowly, deep deep sleep.

 

With how physically close they were, Q could tell James was still fast asleep from how deep and slow his breathing was, the warm breath brushing gently at his neck. The room was quiet, and for a moment there, he almost forgot where they were and why they were doing there. 

 

Q blinked, lips quirking a little, as he lay still, glad that James finally seemed to have slept through the night for once since the moment he had arrived. 

 

James was very still and very quiet for a long time... Until he awoke with a jerk. From unconsciousness, he snapped to awake and he sat up slowly, blinking... And realised that the form he had been hanging onto was Q

 

"Shit..." He breathed.

 

The quietness lulled him, but Q still noticed it very keenly when James's body seemed to freeze a little before it jerk awake. He was about to turn and bid the man a good morning when the soft curse wriggled its way into his ears, amplified by the silence as it was.

 

The smile on his lips withered.

 

"Morning," he whispered, fixing his glasses and watching James with a neutral expression. 

 

James didn't answer, he was already halfway out the bed and headed to the bathroom. They were both sticky and sweaty, covered in a thin layer of there own body fluids. The shower clicked on.

 

Q's eyes bore holes into James's back until the man disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. For a second there, he continued to stare at the closed door as well before letting out a sigh and rubbing his face, knocking his glasses off in the process. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath and sat there for a few longer seconds, calming himself down while words like 'mistake' swirled in and out of reach.

 

Finally, with a gulp of air, he put his spectacles back on a little forcefully, reached for his knapsack, and took out his laptop. He had things to do, and it didn't take him long before he was quickly typing away on the keyboard, face set in stone. 

 

"You need to shower," James was out and towelling his hair dry. " We need to go. Didn't you realise what the time was?"

 

"I realized the time," was Q's curt reply, but he was still typing, not looking up at the other man. Almost done as it was, everything needed to be sent to Moneypenny. There was no telling when the next town like this was ever going to come. "Tell me what you want for our cover story." 

 

He paused. "Cover story?"

 

Q sighed, adjusting his glasses and still not looking at the other man. "Cover story," he repeated. "The one I told you about the other day. We need to have a cover story as to why we are traveling together so Moneypenny can create a background and proper passports for us." 

 

"Are you mad at me?" James asked quietly.

 

Now Q turned to look at the other man. "Is it still a mistake to you?" he asked back, answering a question with another. 

 

James took a deep breath. "Probably..." He said slowly, then sat down at the edge of the bed. "But... I don't regret it..."

 

Q fixed him a long stare before pinching the bridge of his nose and swallowing. "Okay," he breathed, nodding. "We just... We just need a cover story. She asked me for it for a few days already, and I suppose we need to give it to her right now rather waiting until we come across another town like this for some signal."

 

James knew that he was going to make a mess of this and despite the fear and the confusion and the state of affairs, James had a sense of contented peace inside him.

 

He should have known it was too good to last.

 

The window splintered into a thousand shards, scattering everywhere and James ducked. Q's phone began to ring.

 

Q's eyes widened and he snapped his laptop shut before making for the floor, cursing under his breath. He reached for his phone and scattered clothes, checking to see who it was. 

 

The number was was withheld. It rang off and started to ring again.

 

Q crawled on the ground, shoved his laptop into his knapsack. "Hello?" He answered his phone, wanting to see if it was Moneypenny or not. 

 

"Quartermaster," the voice was unfamiliar... Cold. " Can you hear me over the gun shots?"

 

Q  froze, his fingers gripping the phone tightly. "Who are you?"

 

"The one who is behind the ones who are firing the guns. Should I ask them to stop?" The gunfire ceased.

 

His stomach dropped the moment the gunfire ceased, eyes searching for James's, trying to appear not too panicked. "What do you want?" he asked, voice much calmer than he felt. 

 

"To please the people I work for," the voice said. "Hand over the agent. Tell him to walk outside and give himself in or we will come in and get him."

 

Q scoffed despite himself and the situation. "You must be joking." 

 

"I rarely joke, Q. Walk away and live your life."

 

Q was quickly putting on his clothes while debating in his head to see whether or not he should endanger Moneypenny anymore by sending the information to her. "As if you expect me to believe you wouldn't kill me when you have the chance."

 

James caught his eye and shook his head. "Q, you should run," he whispered.

 

Q raised an eyebrow at James before shaking his head, keeping his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear and beginning to type. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for and wave James over. 

 

"This is the floor plan of the hotel. When we find a manageable exit, I'll turn off the power so we can run. Okay?"

 

James leant over him and looked at the floor plans, tracing over them with his finger tips... And then nodded, tapping a service exit.

 

Q's eyes followed James's finger and nodded as well to confirm that he had seen what needed to be seen. And just a few seconds later, he made his decision to send all the information to Moneypenny, including the recording he had of this phone call. In case he didn't make it, he wouldn't take every information to the grave with him, even if he was putting others in danger because of this. 

 

"Well, Mr. Whoever-you-are, this is where I bid goodbye to you." He hang up, and the immediately cut the power afterwards. 

 

"Let's go," he said urgently to James, shoving his laptop into his knapsack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

 

James was dressed, and had the gun in his hands and nodded, not that it would work after the dow. "Now..." He whispered.

 

Q nodded and the both of them ran just as the gunshots began firing again. His body seized a little, but Q kept his eyes fixed on James alone, clutching his knapsack tight, and followed the other man toward the designated route. 

 

Bond grabbed Q's hand as they ran down the stairs, two at a time. "Move," James shouted as they darted through the milling guests.

 

Q squeezed James's hand tightly, trying to keep up and maintain his balance so he wouldn't fall down the stairs in the dim, bleary emergency light. The guests, in a bit of surprise and perhaps a little panic, did part for them to run through. From afar, there were the sound of doors banging and aggressive shouting as well. It seemed whoever those people were, they were starting to storm the hotel.

 

James gripped Q's hand roughly, dragging him around a corner and into the kitchens. "Stay close," the words were a gasp as they ran. Kitchens was an optimistic word, considering the state of the rest of the place but they still ran.

 

"Okay," Q replied, nodding urgently. The people in the kitchen were saying something as they quickly stood out of the way for them both to run. His heart was pounding quickly, the rush of adrenaline making his stomach clench, and Q squeezed James's hand, unconsciously so. 

 

They crashed outside and into the loading bay, James rolling a little as he did. A car was pulling in - James ran to it.

 

" Get out! Get down! Now!"

 

Q held tightly on to his bag, cushioning it from anything that might as well damaging to any of the content inside. He hissed and immediately clambered to his feet, feeling somewhat apologetic to the people whose car they were more or less stealing, but this was about survival and there was no way in hell he was going to feel remorseful about saving his and James's own life.

 

The car was already speeding away by the time he slammed the door shut. 

 

The back window shattered in a rain of glass. James didn't seem that perturbed by this new violent development. On the country, he raised the gun and swung his arm back, firing several shots... Until the stolen firearm clicked empty.

 

Q, on the other hand, did wince at the shattering glasses and gunshots whizzing past his face. He ducked down, trying not to squeeze his eyes close out of reflex, and turned over to the other man when the empty clicks of gun sounded in the small space. "Go, James. Go!" He said urgently, seeing the pursuers still hot on their trails from the rear view mirror. Times like these and in a place such as this, there was hardly anything he could do, and Q bit his lip, making himself think of how he could be of aid in this…

 

James snarled as the gun clicked empty and tossed it aside before straightening in the chair and started to drive through the city, wheels spinning... And trying not to kill civilians in his path.

 

He scowled and made a sharp turn, and hissed with annoyance. This little hatch back was wrong... He had no idea why.

 

Q was gripping his seat tightly before taking out his laptop again, keeping his head below the seat to avoid the gunfire, and placing it in his lap. Never before had he prayed that this small town had traffic lights. 

 

As it turned out, they did have a few, and he all turned them green just so at least the traffic would turn a bit chaotic with cars beginning to flood the streets and everything, creating a more or less a diversion for them. 

 

James managed to lose them in the traffic, as they vanished into more crowded roads. "We need to swap cars, they've seen this one," James said softly.

 

Q let out a shaky sigh of relief, and nodded. He adjusted his glasses and began frantically looking around. "There," he pointed; there was a man just parking and getting out of his car not too far away. 

 

James pulled the car in with a hiss of annoyance at it. He kept out and snatched the keys to the R8, and got in. The car started with a hum.

 

Q hurriedly followed, and got into the car, slamming the door shut. "Well," he let out a breath. "At least this seemed more like the style that you'd go for."

 

James didn't answer but his face grew into a slow, vicious grin. "Yes..." He growled, grinning viciously. He sunk into it with ease and stuck the car into gear.

 

Q laughed softly at James's wicked expression. "Can't imagine what you'd do when you get your hands on an Aston Martin." They were speeding away again; the performance of this car was smooth and fluid as expected, and admittedly, the other man was much more suited to this type of sports car. 

 

"I look forward to it," he hummed. "This car has plenty of horse power - we should make the coast by tonight. It's a little more ostentatious than I aimed for... But it works."

 

"Bet you do," Q muttered with an amused smirk. He was still tense, but as long as they were distancing themselves away from those killers, he was feeling that bit more at ease. At least they get to keep their lives for a while longer. "That's good." He nodded with a sigh before turning to James. "Are you hurt anywhere?" His eyes were already trailing along the other man's body, looking for any sign of injury. 

 

He lifted his arm - his shirt was torn under the rib cadge, a long thin, wiry scratch that seemed to trickle blood at a steady rate.

 

"It's not bad. I've had worse."

 

Q stared at the scratched for a long second before taking out the rumbled shirt he still kept since he had changed out of it back at the village and tore it, using it to soak up some of the water James had still in his backpack, before silently dabbing it at the wound with it. "I know you've had worse," was all he muttered. 

 

"Good," he winced, the breath catching as he pressed the shirt against his bloody ribs. He shifted so Q could see his wound. "You can tell me about what I've done later."

 

His hand paused a bit at James's wince, but pressed on anyway, wanting to at least clean the wound a bit more. "I will," he agreed. Silence lapsed some more before he spoke up again, "We should get some sort of first aid kit or something next time we stop at a town." He didn't like the fact that they had nothing to defend themselves against germs and bacteria that might enter the body through flesh wounds like this. 

 

"Can we wait until we get to the continent?" James asked as he relaxed back into the chair, taking the shirt to wedge under his armpit.

 

"And risk getting your wound infected?" Q asked back, one eyebrow raised, before sighing, and allowing James to clutch the part of the shirt under his armpit for pressure to stop the sluggish bleeding. "Antibiotics then, at least?" 

 

James lips quirked into a smile. "Afraid that I might not be able to perform?" He was teasing.

 

Afraid you may die is more like it, Q thought to himself, but didn't say anything otherwise aside from rolling his eyes. "More or less so," he muttered, adjusting his glasses and tried to keep an eye on the road and the rearview mirror... Not that it stopped his attention from wandering toward the other man and the scratched pressed under the piece of torn cloth. 

 

They got to the water's edge at nightfall and James slowed the car to a halt. The sun was setting over the sky, the moon was rising... A blood moon. It seemed symbolic almost. "We should find somewhere to stay... Or a boat..." 

 

The night was beautiful, almost frighteningly so, and Q stared at the red hue with a soft shiver traveling up his spine. "Maybe a boat," he replied, a little absentminded, before turning back to James. "For mobility."

 

James nodded. "At least we will be able to get out to sea... Hopefully be safe enough to sleep..." He muttered, and his hand found Q's... He lead him to the jetty.

 

Q nodded in agreement, looking down at the warm hand that was wrapping around his own and squeezing it back. Thank God they still had enough money to cover for any other expenses. 

 

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. There was an awkward uncertainty about his tone, like he wasn't sure how to do this... How to truly be a friend.

 

Q looked at Bond for a second before nodding quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine." He adjusted his glasses again, smiling when he heard the awkwardness in James's tone. "Worry more about yourself." 

 

James frowned and huffed, fingers tightening around his firmly. "You... I am surprisingly okay about this, Q... It's... Okay..." He frowned.

 

"But I'm used to this. You're not."

 

Q felt the tightened grip and watched James's serious expression for a moment, his mind flashing back to how shaken the man had looked just the night before the last when he had just finished killing two assassins out for their lives, and smiled softly before squeezing back himself. "I don't think either of us are used to this, James," he replied. "I'm okay, it's just... The blood moon doesn't quite agree with me is all," he admitted quietly with a shrug.

 

James regarded him with a curiosity that was obvious but he said nothing. He wanted to know more as he lead the man down to the docks, watching for anyone who might be a witness to their acquisition.

 

And that curiosity was lost on Q, but he didn't say anything because James didn't ask. The other man's body was warm, though, so he kept close as they traced their way down to the docks, him looking out for anything unusual out in the quiet darkness as well. 

 

The theft was silent and swift, Bond moved like a ghost as he helped Q aboard the ship. The training was instinctive and they soon had the ropes off a pleasure yacht and were sailing out of the harbour.

 

Since he practically knew next to nothing about sailing, Q was glad James helped him onto the ship, and stayed out of the man's way, helping only with that he knew he could do right rather than messing everything up—they needed a clean escape. And they did, fortunately so. But it was just like James Bond to pick a yacht of all ships, really, he entertained himself with a small smirk, eyes still trained deep into the darkness to see if anyone was watching. So far, he saw no one. 

 

The lights began to fade and when they were only a dim glow on the horizon, the agent let the anchor drop into the inky black with a splash.

 

"You should get some sleep," Bond said quietly. He was tense, wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

 

Q looked at James for a moment, feeling somehow shifty on his feet. When he came to think about it, he realized dimly that he had started to refer to the agent by his first name... But well, he told himself, it would feel weird to call a man with whom one had bedded by his last name, now... wouldn't it? He had never had any problem with referring to people in his own mind by their last names, but with this man... it just felt rather odd to do so.

 

He reached out to hold James's hand, licking his lips and swallowing. "Come with me then?"

 

"I won't sleep," it was a stark warning, abrupt and sharp. He turned away from the hand and when he rose from his haunches, bones creaked.

 

"You need it," Q protested quietly, the sharp burn in those warning words worming under his skin. "If not, then just rest. It's been quite a day."

 

"I need to make sure that no one approaches - we are sitting ducks out here... And I can't remember if I know how to sail in the dark."

 

Of course, James was right. Q knew this before the man spoke up himself, but the tiredness he knew they both felt in their veins was what drove him into asking, suggesting in the first place. It seemed there was no helping it. "I'll stay here with you then." 

 

James looked up at him... And the stoic expression turned soft. A memory chose that moment to raise its head. The grey haired woman, another one that he failed, telling him that emotions... They made you weak.

 

At that point in time, he did not care.

 

"Come here," he said as he sat down, extending his arm to Q.

 

His grips on the knapsack was tight, but they loosened when Q saw that extending arm, and he smiled a little before heading over and sitting down, leaning into James. He bit back a soft sigh. "Does the wound still hurt?" he asked, still thinking that they needed something akin to a first aid kit and some antibiotics. Strong antibiotics. They were in bloody Asia, after all, the regulation shouldn't be as strong about what should be sold over the counter. 

 

"Merely a scratch," he said as he pulled the young man into his arms and wrapped them around him... Then he simply pulled Q onto his lap.

 

Q blinked and allowed his bag to slid quietly to the floor below next to them, knowing how heavy that was, just as James pulled him into his lap. "If you say so," he replied, eyes trailing over to where the 'scratch' should be, and wondered what on earth was he going to do had that been more than just a mere scratch. It was troublesome, though there was hardly anything they could do about it right then... Maybe he could search the yacht for anything salvageable later on. His attention deviated toward the blood moon in the far distant sky again before turning back to James with his arms around him.  

 

"It makes you uncomfortable," James said quietly as he felt him shift. His hand ran up and down his arm lightly.

 

"You’re getting hurt?" Q replied in an airy voice. "It makes me uncomfortable all right." He did, however, sigh when James ran his rough hand up his arm. 

 

"The blood moon..." His fingers tightened. "That... You're supposed to be able to send us to our deaths without hesitation..."

 

Q stiffened and his expression turned a little grim. "I can be the one who sends you off to do your missions; I can be the little voice in your ear to  try and help you out..." His voice was quiet, soft. "Doesn't mean I don't worry one of you may come back in a body bag one day."  And I fail in just trying to shield you all from impending death, he thought to himself, but didn't voice it aloud. He shifted, licking his lips again. "But yes, the blood moon makes me a little uncomfortable." 

 

His hand ran up and down Q's spine, gentle and soft. Trying to offer what little comfort that he could. "The idea of death..." He paused, "It doesn't bother me..."

 

"Doesn't mean the idea of your dying doesn't bother someone else," Q whispered back, the soothing stroking relaxing him a little as he reached out and placed a hand on the crook of James's neck, fingers and palm pressed to the side of his throat, thumb brushing at the man's strong, stubborn jaw. 

 

"I am glad to know I have a friend in the world," James whispered back, the words held gravity... And pain. There was loneliness in those words.

 

The loneliness shook him, and Q felt his stomach clench. "Friends," he said quietly, perhaps hoping that the plural noun would help ease that void in James some, truthful as it was. Still, it made him think about about all those could-haves and what-ifs again. It truly shot down the confidence he had managed to rebuild again after Silva, not completely, but enough to make him think that maybe it was better now that he was no longer head of Q-branch and had to watch all those missions carried out by living, breathing human beings who were trained to put their lives on the line in a heartbeat, behind a screen monitor anymore.

 

A stray wind whispered, and Q allowed his hand to wander up and card through the other man's short hair before leaning in to press their foreheads together in one impulsive second. "You're alone. Not anymore."

 

James closed his eyes as if the words caused him pain. His breaths came quicker, faster... But it wasn't the arousal... He blinked and turned his head away, but the tear slid down his cheek, catching the light of the moon. He couldn't reply.

 

There was nothing for Q to say at that moment in time, not in a situation such as that. Not when he still thought that part of it was somehow his fault, and James had specifically told him to stop saying such things about himself anymore. Instead, he just silently wrapped his arms around the man and rubbed soothing circles to calm the man down.

 

James pressed his face into Q's neck... And he broke. Slowly at first but it developed into sobs, gut wrenching as they were.

 

The sobs made Q purse his lips as his arms tightened around the other man some more, wondering if there were any possible way for him to just alleviate some of this pain for James. They hadn't tried hard enough. No.  He hadn't tried hard enough. He should have, but he didn't. He lost hope... 

 

'I'm sorry,' he thought to himself.  'I really am sorry.'

 

Bond stayed with him until he settled and pulled back, wiping his eyes.

 

Q regarded James with soft eyes and a small, sad smile. "I'm here with you," he whispered finally, the words dropping into the pond of silence and disappearing until he himself wondered if he really had said that aloud or not, before reaching up and thumbing the lingering tears away from those striking blue eyes. 

 

"I'm sorry..." He whispered but he had no idea why he was apologising. His nose pressed to Q's. "I'm so sorry..." Why was he apologising? He had no idea..." His mouth found his and the kiss was slow, searching. It was laced with pain... And a deep deep longing. He was desperately lonely.

 

Q himself did not understand why James was apologising, but he shook his head anyway, both hands on either side of the other man's face. "There's nothing for you to apologise for." If anything, he should be the one to say sorry, but the words got swallowed up by the slow kiss that James pressed to his lips—searching and so achingly lonely that he didn't know how or what to do to ease it away. Nothing other than to kiss back and hold the other man close to him... almost as if the act alone could stop James from falling apart. 

 

It did. The kiss was lonely and painfully so but it eased and the ice that James had built up began to thaw... The tension in him relaxed as the kiss broke and he rested his forehead against Q's, eyes closing.

 

Q's hand went up to rest on James's cheek, his thumb unconsciously brushing along the man's cheekbone in a motion that he hoped, at least, was soothing to some measures. 

 

"Are all cat people affectionate as you?" James said after a while. It would have been easy to make a joke, or to brush all this off... But he didn't want to. He was tired... So, so tired.

 

Q chuckled weakly. "I should hope so. People cannot keep a cat for long if they aren't either nice or affectionate, in my opinion. Most cats are good judges of character." His hand continued rubbing circles into James's back, looking at the man for a long, quiet moment, before speaking up again, "Rest," he said, trying to sound firm rather than desperate, but he wasn't sure how that had come out, to be honest. 

 

"I'm not tired," he lied as he settled. "I need to stay awake..." he was desperate, afraid of hurting. He was afraid of waking up and not remembering. 

 

"Don't lie," Q replied with a slight frown. "If you keep this up, how can we continue properly? It's a scratch today, what will happen when you're exhausted tomorrow?"

 

“It’ll be a bigger scratch,” he replied and pressed his mouth to Q’s shoulder quietly. “Okay… I'll try and rest…” his grip tightened on the young man. There was a perfectly good bed downstairs, but he needed to be aware… ready to run…

 

He fell asleep.

 

Q rolled his eyes at James's smart reply, but a small smiled tugged at the corner of his lips nonetheless, even more so when the other man agreed to get some rest after all. But really, he didn't quite expect him to actually fall asleep while still holding another person in his arms... Yet he did, and Q let out a tiny, halfhearted scoff before settling down himself. He didn't sleep though, because despite what he told James, he still felt like he had to keep an eye out for anything unusual... Just for a bit longer.

 

There wasn't much he could do, but this was one of the things that he did. 

 

"Goodnight, James," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the man's forehead, still amused that he had been called an affectionate person... Not a word people had used to describe him before, obviously. 

 

James slept for a while, before it turned restless and he began to squirm. Nightmares and dreamscapes and sooner rather than later, James was gasping for breath, trying to fend off his attackers. He awoke silently, eyes wide and then tried to relax again. A hand ran through his hair.  

 

Q continued to run a soothing hand through James's hair, glad to finally see those eyes snap open again, escaping from the shackles of endless nightmares that had been tying them down. He tried to smile, and he hoped it didn't appear too lopsided. Clearly, James wasn't okay, so he didn't ask, but somehow, another phrase fell from his lips, "Welcome back." 

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded slightly. It took a moment before he registered where they were… where he was. He exhaled slowly. “We should get going,” he said quietly.

 

Q didn't push, he knew it was difficult to get back to sleep after a nightmare. But at least the man had gotten a few hours of sleep he supposed, so it was still acceptable for them to get going then while it was still dark out. At least the blood moon had faded from the sky. 

 

"Okay," he nodded and moved away from James, hoping his weight hadn't been hard on the sleeping man. 

 

“Have you slept at all?” he asked quietly as he looked away from the man, up at the sky. He could just make out the light that was bleeding into the sky above, and his fingers brushed the jaw of the man that was in his arms. 

 

"A little," it was Q's turn to lie, his gaze following James's until he adverted it away again, enjoying the soft touch on his jaw. "Where do you think we should head to from here?" He asked quietly. Those people might probably have already guessed that they were heading toward mainland or something, so he didn't really know what their chances were in this. "Still mainland as we planned?"

 

"Go and get into the bed, Q," James said as he started pushing the young man away. " You look awful," they both did but that was besides the point. "Come on, bed."

 

Q rolled his eyes. "Please, as if you don't look awful yourself." He sniffed, but got off anyway as he was pushed away. "Funny, how you almost sound like you're talking to a child or something."

 

James frowned at him. “You're not a child,” he said slowly. “But you are not used to running… and you have been up all night. Go and sleep for a bit… I'll call if I need you…”

 

"Good," Q muttered, but it didn't seem like he was going to weasel out of sleeping easily. Nothing had ever been easy with James Bond. "It's not like you're anymore used to it than I am." Not after one year of relative peace (without being physically chased, that was) and abandonment... But he got up anyway, and headed toward the door reluctantly, grabbing his knapsack in the process. "Do remember to call when you need me," he repeated the man's own word with an expectant look. 

 

“I will, I will,” he called dismissively. James watched him go, and felt a weakness in his limbs and he sat down for a long moment. “I think I need you…” he muttered and then stood up again and went to the wheel, and engaged the engine.

 

Q's eyes kept shooting back to James for a long moment before he let out a long sigh and walked away with pursed lips. It really was no less than what he expected of a pleasure yacht, to be honest, the boat's interior. Even the bed was big. It was a shame, he thought to himself, that James had to fall asleep on the deck... Q would've woken the man up for this if he hadn't been someone who had trouble sleeping...  

 

Quietly, he set the back down to the floor right next to where he lay down before curling up at the edge of the mattress and closed his eyes. Not that he'd admit aloud, but it would have been nicer if the other man were there... And warmer, he supposed. 

 

It was several hours later when James shook him awake quietly. “Q,” he crooned quietly. “Q… wake up… we are at the main land…” he was surprised that he had managed to dock as well as he had, without the coast guard hauling them off and arresting him.

 

Q didn't know what brought this on, but it must have been the blood moon and the overall stress that were causing bygone, carefully buried images to rise up again, and he started awake at James's quiet call, the bright orange hues of raging flames still lurked behind his eyelids. "James?" he breathed softly, staring into the man's striking blue eyes for a moment before recomposing himself, blinking rapidly to clear up his mind. "We're there already?" That was quick. 

 

“We are,” he sat down, looking confused. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand resting on his hand as he jerked awake. “Are you okay?”

 

Q swallowed and shook his head. "Odd dreams," he muttered, looking at the man's hand on his own and smiled faintly, squeezed it and said, "Let's go." Before unbidden troubles arose.

 

"Tell me about your dreams?" Bond offered quietly. "I could help..." he added, although there was little chance of that. 

 

Q looked at James for a long moment before nodding. He supposed it was only right... there was no harm in this anyway. "I saw my childhood house burn down in flames and my dad die screaming inside it," he whispered before scoffing at himself, shaking his head. "Which was not wrong per se, but he had already died before it burned down anyway, so he couldn't very well scream."

 

Bond smiled sadly, and sighed. “I lost my parents when I was young too…” he said and stood up. “Come on… we should get moving…”

 

"I know." Q smiled back softly and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

  
They got to the deck... And James froze. The police were on the deck of the boat, and guns were pointed at them. "Mr. Bond," a man in a suit stepped forward. "You are under arrest."


	10. Chapter 10

Q froze. Fuck, they should have run when they had gotten the chance. And he had delayed it. He and his stupid dreams. On impulse, he pushed James back and stood between him and the police. "On what charges?" he asked, voice surprisingly calm despite the turmoil crawling under his skin. He knew there were more than enough 'crimes' they had committed to get them jailed, but that wasn't the point right then, was it? 

 

"It's alright, Q," Bond said quietly.

 

"Murder, arson," the man said, smirking, "Theft and kidnapping of a British citizen on holiday."

 

"No, it's not alright!" Q snapped quietly, maintaining his ground nevertheless. "Murder of whom, and what arson?" He turned back and asked the smirking police, who then was seriously getting on his nerves. "There has never been any arson whatsoever." He ignored the theft accusation... because it really wasn't an accusation as they both knew. "And your so-called kidnapped British citizen is  traveling with him." 

 

"Not the information we have, if you wish to contest it, you know where the British Embassy is. Now are you going to come with us quietly, Mr Bond?" One of the men reached out with handcuffs.

 

Q clenched his jaws tight and narrowed his eyes. "You are not to arrest and detain anyone without presenting proper evidences and a warrant from the court," he hissed, pushing James back some more. "That is the law, and you should be well acquainted with that  if you're actually with the law enforcement department." 

 

He sighed and stepped back, clicking his fingers. "Arrest them both."

 

"You're not with the actual law enforcement, are you?" Q muttered vehemently. One of his arm was holding onto James, holding the man back. Knowing him, Bond would sooner give himself up than to actually see where this would go. 

 

James turned his head and caught his eye. Bond winked at him and waited until one wrist was cuffed... And then his elbow swung out, smacking the man in the jaw, making a grab for the gun.

 

It slipped into his hands and felt right and James opened fire, killing the so called policemen. The man in the cheap suit had been hit but was alive. "Q, let's go," James barked.

 

Everything happened fast, perhaps too quickly, but shots were fired and those sodding police were down, and before he knew it, Q was already running, following James's back and leaving the dock behind as quickly as they could before anyone else could come for them. 

 

Bond slowed, only so Q could keep up, as the gun was slipped over his shoulder. “We need to get to an airport and get out of Indonesia,” he growled, as he slipped his fingers through Q’s. The emotions were lacking in his voice, he was all business and he was ready to kill.

 

Q squeezed James's hand, hating himself for the sheer fact that he was most probably going to slow them down and probably get them killed if this kept up. "Okay," he replied, taking out his phone and dialing Moneypenny's number. Without passports, they would never be able to leave. 

 

Of course Eve answered on the second ring, with her customary, chirpy tone. 

 

"Those passes you promised me to go to that event still available, Miss Moneypenny?" Q asked, trying to sound bright himself even though his heart was pounding like crazy against his ribcage, almost ready to leap off his throat. 

 

James snatched the phone and put it to his ear. “We need a way out of Indonesia… like now…” he snarled and tossed the phone back, raising the gun to shoot.

 

Thank God his catching ability wasn't as horrible as his throwing skills, Q thought to himself as he pressed the phone James had just thrown back his way to his ear. "Sorry about that," he muttered, moving out of the way so the other man could actually aim. "But yes. We do need to get out of here. Now. Is there anything you can do for us?"

 

There was the sound of tapping on the keyboard. "Get to safety. I'll call you back," and Eve hung up on him.

 

"We need to hide," Q said, tucking his phone away, and wincing a little at the another sound of gunshot. "She'll call back with help."

 

James discarded the firearm, tossing it under a bridge and they turned into narrow streets full of people, and towering buildings.

 

They slowed down somewhat into just a fast walking pace when they finally get deep into the middle of the crowd,  trying to blend in, and Q squeezed James's hand tightly, regulating his breathing as much as he could and fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. 

 

Someone shouted and James pushed Q to a wall and pinned him against it. He turned away from the crowd as more police ran past and kissed him, hard, drawing his hands up around his neck.

 

Q barely twitched upon impact, and threw his arms around James, pulling the other man closer, and returned the kiss in full fervor. Some people were looking, but it was a familiar enough sight that no one eventually paid attention to them anymore, and the sound of the running footsteps and shouting of the police finally faded into the distance. The kiss broke, and Q swallowed, a little lightheaded despite the situation. 

 

James groaned and caught his wrists, pinning them above his head as he kissed slowly.

 

Q moaned into the slow, tender kiss, the feeling of James's hands pinning his wrists over his head heightening his senses as he lifted up one leg and brush it along the other man's own, a shiver running up his spine. 

 

James pressed against him. He was aroused, painfully so, and he ground against him mercilessly, The open hand cuff dangling. "I want you," he growled.

 

Q whimpered, the heat pressing against him intense and urgent to the point where he shivered more than just once, the glimmer of the handcuff penetrating the corner of his eye. "Come on then," he breathed back, wanting more than ever to tuck the other man close even though his hands were still pinned in place. "We go find a place. Now." 

 

James kissed him savagely, the heat of the moment translating into intense intense need as he broke the kiss. "Where?" He wanted him pinned to a wall...

 

So much for him being the slightly more logically driven one out of the two of them, really, because right then, Q couldn't think past James and the heat that the man was then infecting over to his own body. He nuzzled James's jaw in a haze, nibbling his neck and sucking on a pulsing vein. "Anywhere," he gasped. A love hotel, in a dark back alley, he didn't really care anymore. Why, when they were literally being hunted of all times, he hadn't a clue. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush of the chase and of survival, but really, right then he wanted the man as much as the man wanted him. 

 

He chuckled darkly and slipped an arm around him before dragging him off to find somewhere that they could sate that hunger.

 

Q shivered at the dark, low rumble that came vibrating from deep within James's chest, and already, they were off, him feeling just a little bit dazed.

 

They careened through the streets, James hand never left him until they found a quiet alleyway and he dragged Q back to him. " Are you okay?" The heat was raw in his voice.

 

Q was glad James's hand didn't leave his own even as they wove through the crowd, and the raw hunger in those words and dilated pupils were all too self-evident in and of themselves. "I am." He nodded, leaning in to steal another kiss.

 

James kissed back, mouth slanting over his, tongues stroking... He nosed his neck. They were alone... It was quiet. James pushed him back against the wall and then turned him. His hands roamed, rough and possessive, clawing and nails dragging, sliding up and under the shirt.

 

There shouldn't be anything fun about being pushed against a wall, Q thought blearily to himself, but his body felt too hot right then to care right then, and those rough hands were too arousing to ignore. He tried paying attention to the environment as well, but the pounding of his heart was growing steadily louder, and Q couldn't help but let out a soft moan. 

 

James ground against his rear hard as his hands reached and started to undo his belt, fingers swift. He mouthed as his neck hard.

 

Q let out a strangled hiss when James ground against him, those hot lips mouthing his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, let out a shuddered breath, and pushed back against the other man, lips pursing to stop himself from making any too loud noises. 

 

James bit down on his neck. Hard. He had such a lovely neck, lean and graceful, James couldn't resist it. He shoved a hand down the front of Q's pants and stroked the length slowly. "You have to be quiet," he breathed into his ear. Maybe it was the lack of memory, but he had to calm down some how. "Otherwise they may catch us... Can you do that?"

 

Q's breath hitched when he felt James's teeth sink into his flesh, and if he hadn't been pursing his lips, he knew he would've cried out. But that wasn't the end of it, no, of course not, and he lay his burning forehead against the cool wall to fight against the rapidly surging pleasure in his veins that James was wreaking through his body. 

 

He shivered at the whispered words with heated breaths caressing his ear, and Q nodded with a whimper deep in his throat. Desperate to escape but had no other way to get out. "I'll keep quiet," he promised quietly, urgently.

 

They still had protection left over from the hotel, and Bond reached into his bag. The foil packet was held between clenched teeth as he opened his fly, and pushed Q's trousers down. His hand went to Q's chin. "Spit," he ordered.

 

Distantly, Q wondered if it would have been better had it been cool air hitting his skin instead of this frustrating, sticky moisture. His chest rose up and down quickly in labored breaths, and he did as was told and spat, the order oddly sending a shot of excitement up his spine. 

 

He felt the shiver... And pressed against him. " You like that..." He growled.

 

Q's toes curled, literally stuck between a rock and a hard place, amusingly so. "Which 'that' are you referring to?" he asked breathlessly, unable to stop himself from squirming. But of course he knew what the other man was talking about, but still... "I find I'm liking a lot of things right now." 

 

"Such as...?" He growled as he slowly spread the spittle, the only lubricant that they had. He wasn't gentle.

 

Saliva didn't make the best of lubricant, that much he knew, and Q willed himself to relax around the man's rough intrusion, otherwise, this would take up too much of the time they didn't have. "You. Fucking me," he gasped out the words. "Shouldn't that be enough?" 

 

James grinned. "Good enough for me," he whispered and slammed into him. He took him hard, reaching for his hands and holding them against the wall.

 

Q bit down onto his lower lip to keep himself from crying out, his nose drawing in a sharp, deep breath that hardly seemed enough to fuel the raging blaze that was firing through his nerves and charging his synapses. "Fuck," he wheezed out under his breath, the pain's jagged edges dulled out by slivers of building pleasure. 

 

That was the intention. A way to lose the edgy adrenaline rush and to settle his nerves. Perhaps James Bond would have done things differently... But James was lost and falling hard. He pinned Q, as he pulled back and buried himself balls deep.

 

His heart was pounding a tattooing pace against his ribcage, and Q arched, shivers creeping up along his back and blunt nails digging into his palms, unable to move much with James pressing him to the wall. That deep thrust hit him and his prostate hard, and he threw back his head a bit, a whimpered moan lodged deep in his bared throat as he swallowed it back down. It hurt, but felt too good at the same time. 

 

James was merciless as he drove into him hard. Over and over he slammed Q into the wall, his breaths coming in gasps as he took his companion hard.

 

Q's vision was blurry as he bit his lip bruised to keep the noises to himself. The rapid, short, splutter of breaths he was scrambling down his lungs were quickly becoming not enough to feed his expanding lungs and accelerating heart. But his hips bucked back nonetheless, meeting James for his every thrust, despite realizing dimly in the back of his mind that this was as much of the man working out his aggression as he was his sexual drive. 

 

Before, James had been determined to get Q off... This was raw, dangerous and wilder. He thrust hard, bruising Q with the ferocity and the need. He would be sore... He wanted him sore. A hand went to his spine to arch his back. "Keep your hands on the wall..." He growled.

 

Q knew this was going to make him sore if the night before last had only left an ache in his spine (as far as he could tell anyway, being so busy running for his life as it had been). He bit down again on his abused lip to stop a small whimper from bubbling forth when those words finally registered into his senses, and Q swallowed before complying and flattening his hands against the wall. 

 

"Good boy," Bond breathed and sucked a bruise into his neck, before he lost control with a thready cry, spilling himself into Q. He shuddered and arched over him.

 

Q's skin crawled, and somehow those words made his lungs suddenly constrict. He drew in a breath through his mouth and filled up as many cell in his body as he could with oxygen as he could before everything began again. And it did, with Q still rock hard despite it all. 

 

James leant against him for a long moment and then started to roll his hips, angling so that every brush teased over the prostate. His hand wandered over his chest and stroked in time to his moments... But it was slow. Far too slow...

 

"Do you want to come, babe?" He whispered, taunting… teasing. What a bastard.

 

A shift happened somehow, somewhere along the way, and Q swallowed once more, feeling James's every heartbeat, every inhalation against his back. But what came next was even more torturous in his book than anything else, to be honest, because the pain gradually ebbed away and gave way to bursts of building pleasure, lapping at his senses more frequently than ever before, and he let out a choked breath, the small whimpers spilling forth finally. True, it was far too slow. And it wasn't even about them possibly getting caught with their trousers down anymore, not right then. 

 

"James," he breathed, the words stuck and thick in his throat before the question wriggled into his consciousness. Q nodded, almost urgently, the word "babe" ringing in his ears. "Yes... go faster..." 

 

James smiled against his shoulders, a feral, animal smile. "Say pretty please," he cooed, and made no motion whatsoever to suggest that he would go faster.

 

Q rolled his eyes, he should have known the man would play this card. His mouth twitched, and he licked his lips before saying, "Please, James... let me come." He could feel the heat spreading from the nape of his neck up to his face as he uttered the words. 

 

James groaned at the words. Authority figures... He had a real issue with them, but he began to move, stroking at the same time. It was rough, it was hard... James was determined to drive him mad.

 

It really wasn't difficult to figure that James had an issue about authority figures, to be honest, because of how much of a rebel he had always been to all the M's he had worked under, and to the Quartermaster himself. Not to mention that he had once used the fact that Q was, or used to be, his sort of commander to weasel his way out of a good fucking. But right then wasn't the time for this sort of thinking. Not really, and so he just simply waved it away to a corner to be poked at later on. 

 

Thank God James began moving at a hard pace again, driving him into the wall would be the cliché phrase, but Q didn't mind (why would he?) as his heart sped up again, blood rushing through his ears in a loud, deafening roar, and the partial publicity of this all, the possible edge of danger, didn't really help the pumping adrenaline in his thrumming veins. His chest was heaving and Q hated the fact that he only had his own lip to bite on and stop himself from moaning aloud in sheer pleasure. 

 

Bond snarled, feeling that it was just a little... Wrong. He pulled out and then spun Q, pushing his back against the wall. James claimed his mouth... And physically lifted him. "Legs around me..." He all but growled. The angle was harder, more forceful...

 

Yes. Q's mind hissed, and he didn't need to be told twice before wrapping his legs around James, claiming those lips once more with a fierce kiss. 

 

James caught his wrists with one hand and pinned them above his head. It was awkward, a stretch for him, but gravity assisted and Bond thrust into him, hard, holding him against the wall as he fucked him… and fucked him senseless. “Give it to me,” he demanded in a throaty growl.

 

Q knew it was quite an awkward angle for them both, but he didn't particularly care right then. He did, however, grunt a little when James pinned his wrists back up to the wall again before thrusting back in. The pinning made him feel vulnerable, especially face-to-face like this, but the heat generated was too high and too intense for him to ignore. He arched and bucked at the bruising pace, and continuing to bite down onto his lip to stop any obscene noises from spilling over the edges. 

 

He whimpered and finally relaxed some more, giving his senses over to this as demanded. 

 

“That’s it…” Bond growled, a coaxing sound. He was getting hard again as he relentlessly drove into the boy, his free arm under him. “I want to see your eyes as you come… don’t you fucking dare look away…” 

 

Eyes were the windows to the soul, as they usually said, and Q stared at James—that demand felt almost as if the man was requesting him some sort of secret way. What secret that was, he wasn't entirely sure himself, but Q knew, deep down, that there was a secret he had buried somewhere in the dark crevices of his mind that sparked alive whenever he thought about James Fucking Bond. 

 

It was the thing that had always hurt him before, back when he sometimes thought back to the words of  "Presumably Dead" on 007's file. 

 

Bond saw something in his gaze, something hesitate… There was pain in his eyes. “Hey…” he whispered between gentle kisses, soothing away that ache… He released his hands and drew them around his neck slowly. “I’m here… I won't let anything happen to you…” 

 

Q closed his eyes and took a moment to recompose himself, cursing at his own silliness. Instinctively, he drew James's head closer before nodding. "I know..." He stood by his words from before: James Bond would never hurt him, never intentionally. "Sorry." He opened his eyes again and kissed the other man. "Where were we?" 

 

“I was trying to blow your mind…” but he could feel the condom slipping. Until they knew that he was clean then they couldn’t take that risk… so he pulled out… and then sunk to his knees in front of the Quartermaster, and took his length into his mouth.

 

Q pursed his lips, cursing at himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gasping when his length was engulfed into that hot cavern. "J-James..." He spluttered, feeling too much like he was letting the other man down for this. "Come up here. Please..." 

 

James grinned like a cat and took him in deep, and then pulled back, releasing with a small ‘pop.’ “It's all right…,” and he took him in deep, sucking rhythmically, fluttering his tongue over the head of his erection. He may have had more experience with women… but he had sure as hell done this before.

 

Q gasped, his toes curling, face burning at the obscene noise that James was making. Release was close with the man's skillful mouth, but he fought it off, not desiring it when he had all but stave off James's own. "Please, come back up here, James. I-..." His breath hitched when James's tongue fluttered over his tip.

 

“Not on your life,” he growled, and then cocked his head to the side. “It takes me a few moments to recover and we have to move again soon,” he said quietly, and then took him deep, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked.

 

It should be put on record or something, Q thought to himself, that day. Because it had been a long time since the last time he had called himself stupid three times in one single day, let alone in just a few minutes alone. The man had come, and he had been so caught up with everything that he didn't even realize it. James Fucking Bond, he thought to himself. 

 

He hissed when the man sucked and hollowed his cheeks, throwing his hand over his mouth to stop him from moaning aloud. And it didn't take him long, being already so close to the edge as it was, before he came with a sharp gasp, his knees feeling weak.

 

James held him to the wall as Q came into his mouth in a thick, hot mess and he swallowed. He was reasonably sure that Q was clean, considering he was still British intelligence. Grinning like a cat, he stood up slowly.

 

Q was glad for the hold James had on him, otherwise, his knees most probably would have buckled. Somehow, the predatory, cheeky grin on the man's lips, he couldn't help but pull a halfhearted frown. "I really, really hate you right now," he muttered, reaching down to pull his trousers up while his heart was still hammering away in his chest, the memory of Austria flickering across his mind. 

 

Then, he remembered something else. "Oh, and, I'm clean." The man deserved to know that after swallowing a mouthful of his come.

 

James nodded as he peeled the condom off and pocketed it for later disposal. He straightened himself out... And then brushed Q down. "Here... You look like you've been shot at then fucked."

 

Q looked at James brushing him down before having the audacity to blush... even though they had just had sex in an alleyway. "I  had been shot at and fucked," he muttered, adjusting his glasses with an awkward chuckle. "Thanks."

 

James grinned and pressed an absurdly sweet kiss to his mouth. "Come on. Let's find somewhere while we wait for Moneypenny to get us out."

 

Q's heart fluttered and responded fully to that absurdly good kiss himself before reaching out to take James's hand, swatting that odd feeling of his stomach clenching nervously at the confident grin on the man's face. No, he told himself, he didn't find that charming. He didn't.

 

Keep telling yourself that , a voice whispered to him in an amused tone, and he swatted that away, too.

 

"Okay."

 

*

 

They wandered and tried to avoid open areas, keeping close to each other. "There's a market..." James pointed out slowly. "I could use some clean clothes." 

 

"Good idea," Q nodded as they headed into the crowded market. The  was a slightly stuffy smell of dried goods to place, but it was not unpleasant at all. "We still have enough to buy a few changes of clothes and a few more things..." Like antibiotics, disinfectants, and bandages. Finally, they came across a stall that sold rather good-looking clothes at a decent price. Q squeezed James's hand and headed that way. "Come on."

 

James let Q drag him over to the stall and he started to poke around, hunting for clothes.

 

Q looked around and managed to find himself a few good sets of clothes before turning back to James. "Found anything suitable?"

 

"One or two," James called as he stepped  closer, what looked to be a button down shirt folder over his arm and trousers under it.

 

Q was holding something similar in his hands, just plus a cardigan because he'd rather stay a little hot than having the sun continuously beaming down on his skin and burning it up. He blinked and remembered seeing just now a very nice blue shirt that would suit James's complexion well, something that reminded him of the suits 007 used to have in his arsenal, and turned to look for it, found it, and brought it back. "What do you think?" He asked, a small smile on his lips as he tried to see  if it actually were suitable or not. 

 

James seemed to be slipping back into old instincts - he had chosen several button down shirts and smart trousers. There was a pair of sunglasses at the top of the pile. He held up the shirt that Q had chosen, against his torso and made a pleased noise before he added it to the pile.

 

It would have been even better had it been tailored, but this was the best they could manage right then, and they would have to make do with it. Even so, Q was pleased that James was pleased with his choice, too. "Anything else you may want to add?" 

 

James shook his head, he was ready moving to the front to pay for their goods. "We should get off the streets..." He muttered.

 

Q nodded and quickly took the shirts and trousers from James, too, and paid for everything while making a good recount of the money they had left. That, and disposable boxers. "Meds?" he asked when he was back next to the other man, growing somewhat jumpy and paranoid himself after all the things that had happened. 

 

James slid an arm around him in what he hoped was a soothing way - anyone else would have called it possessive and they got several disgusted looks. Clearly they were more amongst the locals and western ideas such as homosexuality were frowned upon.

 

"Still worrying?"

 

Q sighed as the arms settled around him, the weight and warmth comforting him more than he thought it would. "Always," he replied. Someone had to. 

 

He sighed. "If you want me to take antibiotics, I will... I suppose if we intend to continue our... Ah... Sexual relationship, then we need to find something that resembles a modern chemist," he mused.

 

"I want you to take anything that can prevent you from getting sick or infected with bacteria," Q muttered. "But wait... why a modern chemist?" He raised an eyebrow.

 

"Because it would be a good idea for me to get tested if I can," he mused as they wandered together. "But if I can't... I highly doubt condoms and lubricant are widely available here."

 

For a moment there, Q paused. But then, suddenly, he remembered where they were and who he was with. "I never thought you'd be... not clean," he admitted it aloud. "Rather, I just..."  want to keep you safe , he thought to himself, but didn't say it aloud and shrugged instead. "Come on, let's go find ourselves a chemist."

 

"I haven't exactly spent this year in celibacy," Bond admitted grimly as they walked together. His palm was still resting on the base of Q's spine as he popped the sunglasses over his eyes. "The idea of protection... Well..." It was an awkward pause. It hadn't crossed his mind much. It was almost a self destructive pause.

 

"And I didn't expect that you have," Q replied quietly, the cover of sunglasses making it difficult to read James's expression. But that was the whole point of it, wasn't it? "It's just... we'll find a way to set up a check-up appointment for you some time soon," he found himself saying, almost like a promise. Q didn't even realize that he was leaning closer into the other man. "Then well... no need to worry about protection anymore." That he said in a small voice, clearing his throat with a sudden surge of embarrassment. 

 

James swallowed lightly at that and looked at Q. There was a lump in his throat.

 

"Is that what you want, Q?" He asked quietly.

 

Q looked up at James, already hating the sunglasses (even though it certainly did compliment the man's features) because he couldn't see what was going on, because they covered up one of the most important parts. 

 

However, the slight vulnerability in those words were not lost on him, and Q clung to that. "Of course," he whispered back, equally just as quiet. "I wouldn't have suggest it otherwise." 

 

"I may remember that you deserve so much better then me," Bond said quietly. "I may remember that most people I love... They die...." His face turned dark for a moment, he looked away.

 

Q stopped in his track. Turning over to the other man, he didn't care that this was Indonesia and people were uncomfortable with homosexuality display and whatnot, and stepped closer, one hand reaching up to cup James's cheek, directing that gaze back to his own. A soft, tender touch. "I'm no better a human than you are, James," he whispered quietly. 

 

But then he paused, trying to process the words. It almost sounded like James was telling him that he... loved him or something... "I know you will protect me. You have never let any of the people in your life down, and you won't let me down."

 

James stepped forwards and pressed his mouth to Q's in a slow, sweet kiss. Again, there was that lingering sadness... And the sense that James knew something bad about himself... Even if he couldn't work out what it was.

 

Q felt his lungs shudder, the sweetness of the kiss was nothing in comparison to the searing loneliness that seemed to vibrate from James's every cell... His eyes fell closed, and he pulled the other man closer, wanting to keep whatever fragments that were left of the man from falling apart, the echoing void inside James's heart almost gave him physical pain. "I told you," he said, "you're not alone anymore." He knew he had said this before, twice even, but James needed to hear it, and he would repeat it again and again until the words sank in. 

 

"So you keep telling me," he lifted his hand and pressed his mouth to the inside of his wrist lightly, his breath was a shiver. "Come on... Let's get somewhere..."

 

"Until you can remember it on your own," Q replied, a shiver traveling up his spine, too, at the fluttering breaths that accompanied the small, soft kiss that was planted atop the inside of his wrist. He nodded. "Let's." And they left, Q walking close to James. 

 

James walked beside him and it took little moment before his hand slipped into Q's hand. "I have to remember that I'm no on my own..."

 

"It's not 'have to,' but maybe you can remember that on your own some day... I can always remind you of it until then," Q reassured James and squeezed his hand back with a gentle smile. They exited the market place and blended into the crowd. It took them awhile, but a chemist had never been too far away from a market place, and they did manage to find one after all. "Help me buy some antibiotics, disinfectants, and bandages," Q said, his eyes darting around the small building, loads of medicines and brands displayed in the shelves behind the counter. 

 

James did so, smiling amicably at the woman behind the counter. He chatted with her and he charmed her, she blushed and giggled at him before handing over a large brown bag. He passed it straight to Q as he kissed the back of the woman's hand and he turned to leave.

 

Q was considering a vaguely familiar brand of sleeping aids, debating about whether or not he should buy it for Bond for health reasons, and whether it'd actually help when he heard a giggle, of all things. Snapped out of his musing, Q turned to look slowly and saw the woman behind the counter coyly flirt with Bond, who then was smiling and chatting right back.

 

His eyes twitched.

 

But alas, Q turned away, pretending as though he wasn't taking any notice of the exchange and reminding himself of his own statement: Bond was a charmer, for both men and women. Yes, that was it, he breathed, even though he wasn't sure if they needed the charm right then.

 

He did still wander closer to the pair though, despite himself, and tried not glare at the brunette. But that was hard to accomplish, especially when James just passed the brown bag over to him rather dismissively just to kiss that woman's hand much like he was just some tag-along errand boy. Great.

 

"Wonderful acting," he drawled and made room to stuff the bag inside his knapsack as they left the store. 

 

"Sarcasm?" Bond said quietly, arching an eyebrow at Q, because he wasn't quite sure if it was sarcasm that he was hearing. His eyes turned to Q and the sun glasses went to the bridge of his nose to look over them. "What's wrong?"

 

"Compliment," Q whispered, calming himself down and thinking that he was an idiot for the fourth time that day. "Nothing is wrong."  He sniffed and shrugged. 

 

James stopped and turned to him, pushing the glasses up and onto his head. "It's... The woman in the store, isn't it?" He asked.

 

Q looked away and shook his head. "It's not." Stupid. His toes curled, and he adjusted his glasses just enough that it caught the sunlight and reflected the beam back. 

 

Bond had to shield his eyes. He was tempted to pin him somewhere and kiss him until he told but he doubted that would work.

 

They found a nondescript hotel that was probably illegal but they had a room for the night.

 

It  was  illegal, if the shady men with rumbled clothing and women who wore heavy makeup and highly revealing attires were anything to go by. Q kept his eyes lowered to the floor until they made it into the room on the fourth floor and closed the door behind them.

 

He let out a sigh and lowered the knapsack he had been carrying around all day down onto the floor next to the lumpy bed after making sure that there was nothing on the floor... Stretching, he turned back to James and said, "I should go and take a shower."

 

James nodded as he set down his things, and sat at the edge of the bed. The chances were that they could have paid a lot to get a better hotel, but he was reasonably secure of their safety here. He sat down and watched out the window.

 

Q leaned against the closed door of the bathroom after he had gone inside it and let out a sigh.  Keep yourself together. He wasn't a bumbling schoolgirl with her first crush, and he wasn't going to act like that. James Bond was a charmer, that much he knew, and kissing a woman's hand was just one of those charming acts that the man usually pulled—he should know, he had seen them enough time through all of the missions they cooperated in already.

 

Sighing, yet again, he pushed to stand up and pulled the door to the shower stall in the corner, stripped, stepped inside, and turned on the shower head. At least the bathroom seemed decently cleaned, he thought blankly to himself and started ridding himself of all the dirt and grimes of the last few days on the run. 

 

James tried to work through what had happened. They had sex against the wall… great sex, sex that was almost violent.. and then Q had turned on him. It was after the woman… he stopped in his pacing.

 

“Fuck…” that was it. 


	11. Chapter 11

Q hissed quietly, gingerly rubbing a hand over his lower back. God, he wasn't kidding when he said it was going to be sore, especially now that the adrenaline and endorphin were finally bleeding from his system.

 

They had sex against a wall. His mind reeled back and reminded him of that fact, which gave rise to a rather spectacular blush, even more so when it was the wall of a dark, semi-public alleyway as well. But it was hot sex and good sex, and James seemed relatively calm after that. He thought to himself and rinse the lather away, glad that the hotel at least still had some cheap shampoo and soap.

 

He really was too grimy... How did James even try to have sex with him, Q didn't really have a clue. 

 

James paced about the room, waiting until he could not any more. He knocked on the door lightly. “Q?” he called. “Want some company?” He knew that he sure did.

 

Q was just about to feel clean enough as he was wringing his dirty clothes that had been washed more or less as much as he could by hand when James's voice made him jump. "Uh... Just a second!" He stepped out of the shower and grabbed haphazardly for a towel in the closet and tied it around his waist before opening the door and put on his glasses.

 

"Sorry." He smiled sheepishly. "I was almost done anyway myself..." He blinked at James's tense features. "What's wrong?"

 

“I made you jealous when I was flirting with the women in the shop.” He announced and then winced. “That sounds… awful. I wanted to apologize… and…” he raked an awkward hand through his hair, frustrated. He was no good at this.

 

Q would be lying if he said his face wasn't burning right then. Of course, nothing got past this man's sharp eyes—he had been an agent longer than he hadn't, after all. He bit his lip, which was still rather chewed up, and shook his head, trying not to squirm. "It's okay, James." He couldn't say the woman hadn't been attractive with her oriental mien and crisp laugh. "I was..." He cleared his throat. "I was being weird is all." It wasn't as if they had made any commitments to one another anyway. 

 

James frowned at him, and reached out to cup his cheek lightly. “You’re not being weird…” he said gently. “I was… thoughtless... so I am sorry… but she didn’t want to give the antibiotics…”

 

Q blinked, but couldn't stop himself from leaning into James's touch. He heeded the explanation and cursed inwardly at himself one more time. "I didn't know that," he muttered. "Then you have nothing to apologize for." He raised one hand up and placed it over James's own. "I  _ was _ being weird..."

 

James found his mouth... the kiss was a slow, apologetic thing but when it broke, his breaths were ragged and his heart was racing in his chest. "You know... I heard that relationships built in times of stress rarely work out..." He was sure that he had stolen that line from somewhere.

 

Q sighed into the kiss, fingers still lingering on James even when it broke. He looked at the man at that statement and sighed. "Rarely," he whispered. "Not always." He tried not to sound too desperate. 

 

"Is it allowed?" He asked quietly as he pressed against the wet boy, fingers running along the edge of the fowl.

 

"I'm over the age of consent, so there's nothing to stop this— _ us _ ..." Q replied in a whisper, shivering when James pressed up against him, those calloused fingers running along his bare skin. "Unless... you want it to..." His voice was small, toes curling, and he looked down to the floor. 

 

"I meant work..." He said softly, smiling. "I know you’re over the age, Q..." He looked down. "I'm just... Scared. I'm scared that I will remember something bad about myself... Or that you realise that I am... Not what you think I am..."

 

"Don't be," Q reassured him. "I... As far as I'm concerned, you haven't done anything bad..." He stroked James's face gently. "And I know who you are, James. I've never lost sight of that..." 

 

"Who am I then?" He replied, pushing the towel down to grasp his naked form.

 

Q took in a soft, sharp breath when the damp towel fell to the floor. "James Bond. A man with a past like anyone else... you have done not so great things, but you have always tried to stay on the right side of morality..." He was rambling, Q knew, and he put his arms around James's shoulders. "You've never let anyone who is important to you down..."

 

That was a lie and James knew it, as if he knew how to breathe. The names floated in his mind… Vesper… M… Madeline… hadn’t they all been important? “You know… if we are not going to build it on stress,” he said softly, between breathless, butterfly kisses, “then we need another foundation… how about really incredible sex?”

 

From the looks of it, James didn't seem to believe him when he said that. But he wasn't lying... He knew he wasn't, even though he hadn't been there to witness everything. No matter what had happened to any of the people he had cared about, Q knew the man had let none of them down... Things happened in between and stopped them from reaching a happy conclusion, but that didn't mean James had done anything but his best.

 

"You have to believe me..." he breathed, but his thoughts were cut short by the peppering kisses that were quickly becoming too distracting. Not to mention that suggestion as well. "How is that any better than stress?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Sex is a lot more fun than stress… should I demonstrate?” he asked, breaking away to pull his shirt over his head and letting it drop to the bathroom floor.

 

Q let out a breathy laugh when James all but exposed his bare torso once more. Still solid even after one year without proper training. "I think my body still remembers the sentiment," he commented, leaning to nibble at the man's clavicles despite himself. Basing a relationship on "incredible sex"... Vaguely, in the back of his mind, Q just knew it was going to turn back and bite him someday. 

 

James grinned. “Good,” and with that, strolled past Q and dropped his trousers as he stepped into the shower. A moment later the spray turned on.

 

Q glared at the man as he walked past with that insufferable grin on his lips. "Tease," he muttered under his breath, before picking up the discarded shirt and trousers and poking inside the shower stall, pressing a hand on James's slick back. "James," he whispered, his finger trailing teasingly down along the other man's spine to catch his attention. "Rinse these while you're showering," he gave the bundle of clothes over, a sheepish smile on his lips. "I'll lay them out to dry under the sun later." With that he turned to walk away. 

 

The touch of the hand made him pause, and a delectable shiver moved down his spine before a grunt of acknowledgement... And then he was gone. "Tease," he accused in return, the word a growl as he dropped the bundle.

 

Needless to say, Q was pleased with himself at the soft accusation that he caught on his way out of the bathroom. He changed after that, and the fresh clothes made him let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling a little more human than he had been in a while. Once done, he plugged his laptop in, deleting traces of them being anywhere near here from all the cameras that he could find first, before attempting to hack back into MI6's system. The preliminary initially anyway, sinking into Nine Eyes was not impossible, but it could be a little risky, and they needed to lie low right then rather than asking for a full confrontational attack. 

 

As tempted as Bond was to go and drag Q into the shower, he decided that a dragging his back side out of this cool shower could wait. He washed and shampooed, hissing as it grazed his ribs and shaved before he joined Q on the bed, fully clothed.

 

Q's eyes narrowed as he quickly tried to calculate and create a filtering process to go through MI6's wide databases to look for the certain features that he could remember of the bastard that had tried to arrest James earlier that morning at the dock. "Lie down and rest a little, James," he told the other man as he continued typing away at the keyboard. 

 

James grunted and shifted, draping one arm over Q like a blanket. "You should too," he pointed out.

 

Q stopped for a moment and turned to give James a smile. "I am." A few more chains of command and a push of a button, the calculation was up and running. It should take a while, but they should have a result soon enough. He pushed the things on the nightstand away to make space for his laptop before turning back to the man next to him on the bed. "Now." Q fished out the bag he had stuffed inside his knapsack, and turned to James. "Show me your little scratch again."

 

He rolled his eyes and rolled over, lifting the shirt to show him said little scratch which looked puffy and sore, with a faint yellowish tinge.

 

Q's expression turned grim the moment he saw the infected area of the scratch that must have been close, if not directly upon, a major muscle. With a sigh, he opened the bag up and looked inside. "Looks like we can thank your charm on this one," he muttered, bringing the thing closer to read the guidelines among many other things there that were done in too small a print in his opinion. "The woman included a small tube of ointment for you." With that he put some disinfectant on a sterile cotton ball and began dabbing at the scratch. 

 

He hissed and turned sharply to look at it. "Ah..." Was his response when he realised he had a start of an infection.

 

"Keep still," Q said, keeping his voice neutral even as his stomach clenched up. "Small scratch my arse," he muttered under his breath, taming down a sudden urge to press the cotton ball in that much firmer. It was exactly as he had worried. Lucky they had caught it early this time before things took a turn for the worse. Once that was done, he uncapped the tube, squeezed out a bit of ointment that was supposed to protect and heal minor wounds, and applied it to the spot. It didn't take him long to finish bandaging everything up and popping Bond a pill of antibiotic. He couldn't very well be clumsy with his hands, being once a weapon designer now, could he?

 

"Take it," he ordered, shooting Bond an expectant look, a pinkish pill in one palm while the other held a water bottle. 

 

Bond let him look after him grudgingly, eyes closed and grumbling under his breath. MI6 or fisherman, Bond didn't look like he would ever be fond of medical attention. But, he was patient as he could be and when ordered too, swallowed the pill. "Satisfied?"

 

Q's eyes softened as he placed a hand onto the James's cheek, knowing just how much this man despised medical attention from experience himself. "Much." His eyes scanned body once more before asking, "Anywhere else that may be just another little scratch or bruise?"

 

He pondered it. He hurt. He really hurt and his body ached from the tension, from the running and the fighting. His head throbbed but he shook his head. He would be fine.

 

Q sighed—there was something about that negative silent answer that seemed only half a truth at best—but he didn't say that aloud. "I know you don't like this," he began quietly, "but you have to tell me if you're hurt anywhere, okay? We can't afford to have you get sick..." A wry smile appeared on his lips. "Because I can't carry you... Now, come on." He patted the bed once more. "Lie down and get some rest." 

 

The truth was that he was hurting. He was hurting in such a deep, fundamental way that words couldn't explain. It was a sadness... A sadness deep within him that made him want to curl and to weep...but he couldn't. It was the sense of hopelessness that kept threatening to pull him under.

 

Reaching out, he put an arm around Q and dragged him down. " You too..." James demanded between kisses.

 

Q fell down onto the bed with a small smile, returning the kisses and stroking soothing circles into James's back. "Still got things to take care of for a bit, James." 

 

"I'll wait," he muttered but there was a yawn in his voice and he settled beside Q, one hand resting on his knee. Bond shivered and was asleep within minutes.

 

Q smiled softly when the man fell asleep, a weight pulling his insides down as he looked at those sleeping features, the hard lines and aged angles—chiseled with pain and sadness.

 

The algorithm was still running when he slipped out of bed and proceeded to take their 'washed' shirts and trousers and carefully drape them over the tabletop and chairs they had in their room, hoping the wind from the ceiling fan would help dry them out faster.

 

Once done, he went back to put away the bandages and other medical aids he had taken out to patch James up, tucked it away, and turned back to the laptop and phone he had, both were plugged in for charging as they were, and still no hopeful results arose. Not just yet anyway.

 

Sighing, he lay down next to the older man's sleeping form, hesitating a little but finally placing an arm over him anyway, and closed his eyes as well. 

 

*

 

James slept for a good few hours. When he awoke, it was dark outside and Q was curled against him, one arm over him... He was being held.

 

With a small, stupid smile he turned and pressed his mouth to the man's jaw, and the phone started to jingle again which is what had apparently woken him up.

 

Q drew in a breath as he stirred and woke himself, blearily feeling lips against his jaw... Or was that just a dream? "What is it?" he whispered, opening his eyes and wondering if James had had a nightmare again, when he heard his phone ringing. Immediately, he was alerted and turned to pick up the phone and glasses he had left on the nightstand.

 

Suddenly, he remembered what had happened last time he picked up a phone, and was just a little more apprehensive about answering the call. "Hello?" Q said, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he took his laptop down to have a look at the results (about a dozen of them). He signed James to look over the photos to see if the one that had been chasing them at the dock were there or not, the one in the suit. 

 

James settled behind him, and pulled Q, laptop and all, into his embrace. His chin came to rest on the young man’s shoulder as he started to listen to the conversation whilst flicking through the images on the computer, looking for the one who had come after them.

“Q, it’s Moneypenny,” said the woman. “The line is secure, we can talk freely. How are you both?”

 

Q supposed he should feel a little more hesitant about James maneuvering him so easily, but he didn't, nothing aside from feeling a little surprised, but he quickly settled against the other man, leaning against the side of James's head as well.

 

"We're making it through as best as we can, I suppose," he muttered. "Have you found us a way out then?"

 

“Not all the way to England, but we can get you into Europe. To Italy, I am afraid… after that, you will have to make your own way here. Is that alright?” 

 

Q let out a sigh. That was reasonable enough he guessed. "Of course." His eyes flickered to James, wondering if the other man was hearing this or not. "What about our papers then? Sorry I didn't get to send you a cover story after all." They kept getting interrupted whenever Q wanted to discuss that with James for some reason. 

 

“They are already on their way, I tracked your cell phone, you should have them in your hands by tomorrow, the day after at the latest,” Moneypenny said, as a matter of fact. Then she started giving instructions, about the small cargo plane that was bound for Italy and how they needed to be on it.

 

Q listened and memorized all of that as they went along, glad that they were finally finding a way out of this miserable place. "They managed to find my phone number and call me, Miss Moneypenny," he said grimly when she was done. "This may be our last conversation before James and I get to Italy or London... so you have to be careful and warn Mallory and Tanner, too: James said C is Oberhauser’s puppet." He still hadn't had the chance to tell this to Moneypenny since the moment they found that out and was still prowling in the rainforest. 

 

“I will let them know,” She promised. “You two be safe… how is James?” she asked, completely oblivious to the fact that agent in question was wrapped around him like vines.

 

Q smiled. "A little scratched," he replied, "and tired, but otherwise, I think he's okay. Right?" Q reached up his free hand to place it over James's cheek, his fingers softly brushing over the skin. 

 

“No one shot me off a bridge yet,” he called out loud enough for her to hear and he could almost hear Eve laughing on the other end of the phone.

 

Q chuckled quietly, too. "As you can see, he's still doing well enough." He turned to James and whispered, "Found him yet?" 

 

James nodded and tapped the photo on the screen and the name below it. Eckhart Holderbaum. “I think that’s him from the boat.”

 

Q squinted and nodded. "Moneypenny, we've identified Eckhart Holderbaum as one of the suspects that's working for Oberhauser. He tried to arrest and chase after us. You should try to see if he'd have some leads for you." 

 

"Will do, boys. Until then, stay safe and Q? Try not to end up in bed with Bond," the comment was a passing tease, as she set the phone down.

 

Bond heard the tease and scoffed.

 

"I have a reputation, don't I?"

 

_ You have no idea, Miss Moneypenny.  _ Q though to himself with a chuckle, and set the phone down, too. "Well, yes. You do." He grinned, pressing a kiss to James's cheek. " _ Quite _ a reputation at that as well, from wreaking havoc to charming people." 

 

Bond grinned and nuzzled his nose against Q’s ear in an affectionate way before pressing his mouth to his slowly. “Is that reputation going to cause me trouble?” he asked softly, between tender sweet kisses. 

 

"It depends on what you do, Mr. Bond," Q replied equally as soft. "Should we go find something to eat though?" 

 

He hummed lightly and then nodded. “I think we should…” he said as he stood up and stretched slowly. His hand extended to Q. “Come on, babe… I’m starving… and I know you’ve eaten less than I have.”

 

It was that name again. Q reached out to take James's hand and stood up. "'Babe?'" He smiled a silly smile. "And don't worry, I keep my portion balanced enough." 

 

“You don’t like babe?” he mused quietly as he raised his hand to kiss Q’s knuckles. 

 

Q shook his head. "It's not that. It's just... strange because no one has ever called me that before." He smiled, watching James kiss his knuckles as he had done with the woman back at the chemist. "Do you think we should bring our things along?" he asked, looking around. "I've erased all traces of us ever heading this way... but still..." Now he knew firsthand why all these agents were so bloody paranoid. It had barely been five days, and he was already like this. 

 

“What do your… lovers call you at home?” James said, and almost winced at his archaic word. “What… what are we?” he asked quietly, his fingers resting on Q’s hips lightly.

 

Q shrugged. "I wouldn't know..." he cleared his throat. "Nothing had ever been serious." He turned to look at James, returning the gestures and placing his hands on James's hips reassuringly, too. "What do you want us to be?" he asked back.

 

“I don’t know,” he said awkwardly, and leant forward to rest his head against Q’s, a sad, tired expression on his face. “Do you want to be serious?” he asked quietly.

 

Q sighed, his hands sliding up to settle on James's shoulders. There was that heart-aching sadness again that seemed to bleed from his very blood and soul, and it made Q's insides ache in response. "If you're ready for that..." he whispered, toes curling in the implied admission those words held, apprehension pumping in his veins as he dreaded rejection.

 

Bond’s lips curled into a smile. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly, grinning. “I asked if you wanted to be serious…” he said softly. “I think that was a yes or no…” he mused.

 

Q let out a soft, embarrassed laugh, having been caught red-handed or something of the likes. "Sorry," he whispered, looking at James for a bit before leaning up to give those lips a chaste kiss. "Yes, I do..." he said as he was back stationary on two feet. "What about you?"

 

James pressed his hands onto the small of his back… he kissed him sweetly. “Yes…” he breathed. “I would like to try that very much…”

 

Q kissed back, his heartbeat winding up that bit faster upon hearing the word 'Yes.' "Good to know." There were many risks involved, a lot at that even, but he refused to think about those, and focused instead on them alone. 

 

Bond was grinning against his mouth, grinning with a very real happiness. “We may have to discuss what serious  _ actually  _ means… but shall we eat first?” he said and offered an arm. 

 

"Agreed," Q replied with a nod, reaching and holding on to James's offered arm. They exited the hotel, and just a couple of blocks away was a street long full of street food. Exactly as he had seen it on some of the photos he had seen taken from people who had gone traveling around Asia before. "Well..." he began, his eyes looking around to see plenty of foreigners around, mingling with the locals, many were holding skewered dishes in their hands. The whole place was bustling. "This is new." He turned and smiled at James. 

 

"This is very new," his arm hooked around Q's and held him close. The smell of heat and spices filled the air, warm and aromatic.

 

"This is very exotic," he mused as he held onto Q's arm, walking down between the stalls, listening to the hawkers and the bargaining that was happening as they waited.

 

Q, obviously, felt like a fish out of water because this was an experience he had never had before, and it both excited and apprehended him at the same time. Instinctively, he moved closer to James, his eyes a little wide as he watched everything that was going on around them, the thrumming energy and the bright, yellow lights along with mixing scents of seasoned food, cooked in all humanly possible ways. "What are we waiting for?" he asked, wondering what sort of dish James was letting him try out this time. It was clear that he probably should've done more research about Indonesia before he caught a flight here... But well... too late for that now, he supposed. 

 

"A lot of this is street food," he said over the sound, keeping close. His hand gripped his tightly.

 

"I think that's self-evident," Q chuckled, the coil inside his body, that anxiety he had always had when coming to a new place and environment, loosened up a bit when he felt James's grip tighten around his. "There are just so many things though..."

 

And they ended up getting a little bit of... well, as many as they could. "Mhmm..." Q laughed, holding the skewer for James to try out the grilled beef. "This is good but too spicy for me," he said, trying not to choke because that would just be the worst burn ever down his throat. 

 

They found what appeared to be a picnic table that ran along the length of the street between the various stalls. People pushed and shoved in, and personal space was an issue.

 

James leant over and bit a bit of the beef and swallowed... And then coughed. "Oh... Oh wow…”

 

A woman pushed in and Q shrank away from her. "Excuse me," he muttered out of reflex, and turned back to see James cough. He laughed, putting the skewer back into the brown paper bag they had been given, and patted the other man on the back to soothe the coughing. "Told you to be careful." 

 

"I like spice," he wheezed. "That's just... Painful," he had a few mouthfuls from his bottled water and then, using his fingertips, picked up a small hunk of oily fish. "Try this," he said, putting his fingers to his lips.

 

Q couldn't help but laugh at James's expression and descriptive word, even though it was technically more or less laughing on another person's 'pain'. But he had to drink his water, too, because the lingering spiciness was still too much to handle. 

 

He blinked at the fish that was being offered to him, and Q opened up his mouth and deliberately drew in both the fish and the tips of those fingers into his mouth, his tongue swiping over the pads. He smiled sheepishly around the fingers before releasing them. "That's good," he commented after swallowing the piece down.

 

James face darkened, with a heat that had nothing to do with the spice. "Wait until I get you to the hotel..." He growled.

 

"A threat I'm actually looking forward to," Q replied. "Besides, you did say something about a demonstration." He used the sharp tip of the wooden skewer to stab another chicken and raise it to James's mouth. "Say 'ah.'" He chuckled playfully. 

 

James opened his mouth, and stuck out his tongue, making an ahhh sound. They were playing, relaxed and James felt at ease with him. It was nice to be able to unwind, and he felt the tension easing from him.

 

Q chuckled, pursing his lips, and popping the chicken into James's mouth. He was glad they had this time to wind down from all of the chasing and running for their lives. It was good for James. 

 

"What are you thinking?" He asked, having chewed and swallowed the lump of meat. His hand was on Q's spine, wandering gently.

 

Q looked at James for a second and shook his head, shivering a little at the hand that was wandering aimlessly up and down his spine. "Nothing much. Yourself?" 

 

James shook his head a little and picked off a another hunk of lemony fish, and fed it slowly to the boy. "Just thinking that it's amazing what small things like companionship and good food can make you feel. Content."

 

Q hummed, accepting the fish and in turn, feeding James the sweet and sour chicken. "I'm actually happy that you're finally relaxing for a change," he admitted it softly. 

 

"Not something I make a habit of?" He mused quietly.

 

Q shrugged. "Never seen you did it, in fact. Except for that time when you went to enjoy death a while after Istanbul." His eyes trailed to the shot Moneypenny had given James on the shoulder. He didn't blame her, no one did, but something that left such a nasty scar couldn't have been easy to recover from. "Though no one knew what you were really doing then to know, to be honest." 

 

Bonds face darkened and he looked down slowly at the food, frowning in thought. "I felt... Abandoned by MI6... Eve was told to take the bloody shot..."

 

_ Shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have said that. _ Q's mind repeated over and over, all alarms going off the moment James's mood shifted. "It's still a controversial decision from M that people sometimes talk about... But it was a crucial mission, and I guess... I guess she didn't want to take any chances..." Q shook his head. "She cared for you a lot nevertheless. Just not in the usual way..." He swallowed, looking down at the ground. "I shouldn't have brought it up." He ruined the entire atmosphere to be honest. "I'm sorry."

 

"Hey," he said softly, and his hand found Q's. He squeezed them gently. "It's alright," but it wasn't... Not really. He had felt betrayed by the woman, perhaps seen a mother in her. A mother figure that he barely remembered.

 

"This isn't going to be a straight road... I know that and I know a lot of it is- get down!" He shoved Q back and they both toppled off the bench as a gun was fired.

 

"It's not," Q rubbed his face and sighed, squeezing back all the same. But that was broken too quickly, too violently, and Q was on the ground before he even knew what was going on, his eyes wide as he saw the woman that had just been sitting next to him fall to the ground, her blue eyes still open and glazed over, a bullet hole right in her forehead. His breaths came out in splutters, and he shakily turned to his other side, reaching out to the other man. "J-James," he called out breathlessly. "Are you hurt?" But the guns were firing again and he flinched, heart pounding loudly in his chest as screams of people from all around them echoed and bounced piercingly against his eardrums. 

 

"Under the table," he ordered, giving the boy a firm shove. Someone grabbed by the back of his neck and Bond rolled, aiming a kick for the man's gut. He doubled and Bond snatched the gun in his hand.

 

He rose to a crouch, twisted and took aim.

 

But firing at a distance was different to point blank. The kickback was a bit of a shock.

 

He missed and the electric street lighting exploded, raining down sparks over them like a crackling snow fall.

 

Some of the stands had been pushed down during the tirade of people as they ran away from the shooting, and many things were spilling on the floor, including cooking oil. Q calmed himself down and reaching out for that before spilling it down to the ground just as the rain of sparks showered down to distract them enough. They did actually fall down and he quickly crawled out to snatch the fallen gun, keeping it between his grasps and pointing it directly at those thugs.

 

But they were moving again and they were going to kill the both of them if they didn't  _ do _ anything... His chest heaved, the thugs were about to lunge, and he pulled the trigger. Twice. 

 

Bond was all also returning fire. As far as he was aware, this was the third time be had used a handgun? But the more he fired, the easier it became and when guns started to empty, he effortlessly strode towards someone who was running at him. A swing of his hand and the wind pipe shattered and ducked for the next one.

 

A spark hit the cooking oil and ignited with a roar, flames licking up the side of the tent in a rush, angry and consuming everything in there path.

 

It was one of those times that closing himself up to raise his level of efficiency and focus as he tried accomplish as much as he could seemed very useful and Q did just that. He aimed, and he shot. The shots, of course, weren't perfect. But they got the targets, and that was all that mattered, and Q pulled himself out of the space under the table, discarding the empty gun, seizing a metal rod on the ground that must have been used to adjust the level of protrusion of the tent's canopy, and swung it at the head of the one who was about to lunge for James right in the head. Full force.

 

A few more times like that and blood began spattering out just as the thug fell down to the ground. Q stared at the body for a moment before looking numbly back at James. "Let's go." 

 

James ducked a punch and brought his elbow up into one of the thug’s faces. He nodded, breathless and caught Q's hand. That wasn't before he had checked several of the men for guns and had stolen ID's and money. They needed all the help they could get.

 

More shouts echoed in.

 

"Run," James shouted as he took off, keeping a tight hand on Q's.

 

Q did. Of course he did. They ran, and he barely felt his feet wind up under him or any sort of impact whatsoever at all, as he followed James and kept his attention on the man alone. Everything seemed almost sort of magnified and narrowed down, and he distantly registered that this probably was the effects of tunnel vision. The ringing noises didn't help, but it wasn't anything he couldn't ignore, and they continued running.

 

They took twists and turns and led those henchmen away from the hotel just so they wouldn't lead them back to their own hideout right then, planning on returning later once they had cut them off. 

 

Eventually they got back to the room, panting away. Bond guided Q upstairs - the hacker was splattered with blood and gore. As soon as the door was locked, Bond crossed the distance between them and cupped Q's face in his hands.

 

"Are you hurt?" He asked urgently.

 

Q stared at James, the hands on his cheeks burnt with an intensity that wasn't the result of body heat. He knew there was blood on his face, everywhere on his front in fact, and James was touching it by touching him, and the thought didn't sit well with him. He nodded, reaching up to pull those hands down gently. "Yeah," he whispered vaguely. "I-uh..." What was he about to do again?

 

Blood.

 

Right.

 

"I'm going into the bathroom for a moment," Q continued, his hands flexing by his side as he sidestepped James.

 

Bond let him go and stood back, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing. He paced, back and forth, waiting. He leant against the wall outside and waited for him.

 

Q grabbed a shirt and trousers that he had left to dry out on the tabletop and chair as he hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with shaky hands. He put the change of clothes into the sink before stripping and heading into the shower as quick as he could. It was a shame... they had just bought the clothes as well... And he swatted down and began to wash them under the rays of cool water with a sudden obsessive compulsive penchant all most. 

 

James waited... And waited. James paused and then knocked at the door. "Baby..." He called. "Q? Can I come in?"

 

Q didn't really register the cold water as he continued to scrub and wash in vain. And James's call startled him.

 

It probably wasn't a good idea to call the other man in right then, the sight wasn't pretty, but he... he couldn't stop himself from saying, "Sure." Vaguely, Q realized he hadn't even taken off his glasses and stayed in his crouched position, his hands shaking a bit as he resumed the manual scrubbing.

 

James came in and paused as he took the sight of the young man in. The sight was... So familiar but he couldn't remember it. It made his heart ache.

 

He slowly stripped out of his clothes and moved forward to him. When he was in the shower - and it was stone cold - he crouched beside Q.

 

"Q," he took his hand and carefully took the sponge out of his shaking fingers.

 

Q quickly made for the sponge like it was his lifeline. "No," he insisted. "I need to-..." He swallowed. "I haven't... It's not clean yet..." He looked down at the shirt with spots of blood on it still. He managed to get some out, but the rest was still there. Persistently so.

 

James took it back. "Here," he said softly and lifted the shirt up slowly over Q's head. "Arms up... You'll feel better...." He spoke in soft words, soothing noises.

 

Q stared wide-eyed at James for a moment, not knowing how just taking the shirt off could make him feel better, but complied anyway because actually wanted to escape this, too, this blood, noises, the feel of the trigger being pulled, the crunching sound of a skull crushed under the swinging force of the rod in his hands.

 

James pulled him into his arms, pulled him into his chest. His hands stroked his hair... And he held him... And started to rock him gently.

 

Q shakily held on to James, his arms snaking around the man's body and clutching to his firm back. That was what he needed right then: solidity; because the feeling of his crushing the man's skull still vibrated in his fingers, and it sort of scared him... that spark of satisfaction he had felt upon being able to exact vengeance on those bastards that had been chasing and shooting at them for days. 

 

James said nothing. He simply rocked him gently... And slowly increased the water temperature, warming him up slowly. He knocked down the shampoo and poured a bit into his palm.

 

"Head back."

 

Q didn't realize the temperature shift, too busy holding on to James and trying to convince himself that he hadn't liked what had just happened. Somewhere along the way, he thought he heard James's voice. "What?" he whispered, reluctantly pulling away somewhat to see what was going on when he saw the man's palm had shampoo in it. A bit of reality and cold logic finally injected themselves back into his mind right then, and Q shook his head.

 

"It's okay." His words quiet yet too loud at the same time. "I can... I can wash myself."

 

"Shush," he said quietly as he gently as he started to wash his hair. "Talk to me."

 

The feeling of James's fingertips massaging his scalp was soothing, and Q let out a sigh, shivering a little as he regarded the other man silently for a long lapse of silence.

 

"It felt good." The words fell from his lips and disappeared into the space between them like a wisp of vapor. "Beating that bastard up." His insides clenched, and he wondered if James would be utterly disgusted of him for that admission. 

 

“You should not have to have done that,” he said quietly, touching his cheek as he pulled the shower head down to start to rinse the dark locks. “It still doesn’t change who you are, Quartermaster… You were keeping your word, making sure that I was not alone.”

 

Somehow, the words, expected as they were, still made Q flinch. What was more scary was the fact that the guilt he was feeling right then wasn't for the life he had killed.

 

It was because he had allowed someone to see that.

 

He shrank away from James, the running shampoo stung his eyes, yet he kept them wide and open nonetheless. He felt like a monster right then, to be honest. Like a sociopath with no conscience.

 

_ But he was trying to kill us. He was trying to kill us. _

 

"That wasn't how I intended on keeping my word," he said in barely a whisper. 

 

“This is shock, Q,” he said gently, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand… “Q… is your name really William?” he asked after a moment as he picked up the sponge and started to repeat the motions.

 

Q tried to breathe, he really did. "Please don't," he whispered, trying to remove James's hands as gently as his shredded control could allow right then. "You don't have to touch me." It was one of those times that made him actually wish he was back down that stone well he had once been in and just kept quiet enough so no one would never notice his existence anymore.

 

"It is," he replied in an even tone, much calmer than the turmoil eating and crawling under his skin, eyes anywhere but the man before him. 

 

"William," the name rolled off his tongue gently. He started to wash the man's back gently. "William, I'm James... Pleased to meet you," he stuck a hand out. "It's a pleasure."

 

What was going on? Q stared at James for a long moment, at the hand that was being offered to him, and it was so utterly ridiculous considering that they had had sex on two occasions now that he didn't know how to properly react.

 

It was a delayed process, but James was being patiently, too patiently most probably, but Q eventually reached out himself to meet with that hand. His eyes were wide, and there was a gnawing fear in the pit of his twisting stomach that James hated him now, for what he had done, for his stupid admission that he shouldn't have let slip.

 

But it was true. There was satisfaction in beating that bastard up because he had promised himself a very, very long time ago that he wasn't going to just stand by and watch the people he cared for being hurt anymore. That was one of the reasons why he had plunged into technology in the first place because this was a technological, and being a hacker gave him control and access over what was gradually starting to dominate this planet.

 

_ "You should not have done that." _

 

_ But he was... he was trying to kill us. _

 

_ Does that really justify everything? _

 

He didn't know. He didn't want to know. Technology and wires and programmes were much easier to understand and very straightforward. They had formulas, they could be anticipated... But not humans. "I'm... William..." His eyes were to the floor again, hand barely touching James's.

 

"William," he said softly. " Can you stand for me?" He asked quietly. "Then we can finish washing and get into bed..."

 

It took him a while, but Q did manage to got onto his two feet after nodding silently (he could do this on his own, he could do this), his toes curling and uncurling as he fiddled with his fingers, feeling like he needed to type, to code, to write commands onto the computer screen... anything to override that ringing vibration of the overwhelming impact. 

 

James said nothing and just pulled him against him. He continued with the washing, rubbing slow circles over his flesh, over and over. He went down his legs, got him to lift his feet to wash under them.

 

Q watched everything happen as though from a third person perspective, like an out of body experience, as James carried on what he had been doing from before. He could feel it, almost tangibly so, the way parts of his mind were gradually becoming a little unresponsive despite his prodding and probing. He did twitch a little when James lifted up his foot to wash it.

 

"A little ticklish," he explained shortly, no subject, no verb, and Q could feel a bit of water making its way into his nose with him inhaling under the continuous rays of water. "You really don't have to do this," he rephrased his statement a little, adding and replacing a few things, and odd satisfied that it had come out complete and intact. 

 

"I want to," he said softly. "You feel dirty... I know you do... You’re not but I know what you’re feeling," The shower clicked off and he reached for two towels and swaddled the young man in blankets.

 

Why wasn't he criticising him for the blatant, unnecessary murder he had committed? Q wondered and swallowed. "I don't feel dirty," he lied with a straight face. "I just regret that you had to see what you did." His voice suddenly took on a slight, scathing note. "That I'm the monster that I am." He smiled sweetly, the gesture fledgling out surprisingly easy and normal, despite their circumstance. The towels fell over him and he stared at James for a long while, not feeling measurably any warmer as the cold crept past his muscles and wriggled into his bone, burrowing into his marrows.

 

"How many times have you watched me kill?" He asked quietly as he rubbed him dry.

 

"Enough to know that you can pull ridiculous stunts off," Q muttered in reply, a frown starting to furrow his brows. Why were they doing this anyway? What done was done: He did what he did and he had even confessed to it as well, that he didn't feel bad about it, and the next logical part was for James to retreat as fast as he could from this.

 

"It still hurts to end a life," he said quietly as he dried him off slowly. "It still... Kill or be killed, most of the people that I've hurt have been paid hands... Someone who works for someone... And it hurts..." Once he was dry, James began guiding him to bed. It hurt but James refused to think about it, washed it away with alcohol and sex. 

 

"I know it hurts you a lot," Q said quietly, squeezing James's hand. He had seen firsthand how hurt the man was, subconsciously so from memories he couldn't remember or from the pain of abandonment and not knowing who he was, and it bothered him a lot. One, he didn't know how to properly comfort James. Two, he didn't know how to ease the pain away. Three, he had just done something he shouldn't. 

 

"Which is why I'm not going to run," yes, he had spotted that fear. The worry that James would withdraw. He ran his hands up and down Q's back. "Come on, into bed - shall I see if I can find you some tea?"

 

The tenderness was what scared him, and Q stared at James like a frightened animal. It really wasn't logical. It really wasn't what he had expected. "Why are you doing this?" He whispered, eyes boring holes into the floor below where his feet were trying their hardest not to squirm. "I-... Why aren't you turning away?"

 

James came to stand in front of him, and his hands rested on Q's shoulders lightly. His forehead pressed against his. "Why would I turn away?"

 

"Because I'm not as good as you think I am?" He offered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Because I feel satisfied for doing what I did?" His eyes were wide, a bit of hysteria weaving into his voice, as he patted at his own chest. "Aren't you disgusted?"

 

He was slipping, Bond could feel it... And he honestly had no idea what to do. So... He kissed him. He kissed him hard, pushing all the wayward emotions into that one action.

 

The breath he had sucked in half way, the words that were perching on his lips, died away when James did the one thing Q hadn't anticipated: the man kissed him. James Bond bloody kissed him, and he didn't know what to do aside from freezing up and trying to push the man away in vain before stopping altogether and just gripping tightly at the front of James's shirt. He felt horrible. He felt like his guts were churning because he still wanted this man too much, even after everything.

 

His eyes stung as the kiss broke, but he refused to cry because he didn't deserve tears right then. "They..." His chest heaved as emotions raged in the cavity of his chest like a volatile tempest. "I watched people beating my dad to dead before the house burnt down and I..."

 

No, he didn't deserve tears. He didn't, and Q sobbed dry on the very pressure that seemed to be caving his chest in."I couldn't do anything then, I was too scared and hurt and whatever the bloody fuck I had been... And I... I couldn't bear standing by and letting them hurt you anymore. I can't... I just can't."

 

James held him against him, crushing him against his chest. "Oh, Q... William, I'm sorry..." He whispered as he rocked him back and forth lightly. "I am so sorry..." He whispered.... He stepped back slowly until his knees hit the bed. He sat and pulled Q into his arms.

 

Q shivered. It had been a long time since someone last called him by his name, so much so that it felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. Like a distant memory that he only vaguely remembered to be there. And he shook in James's crushing hold, his senses swirled and making him lightheaded as what should supposedly be buried away, unnoticed and unseen by anyone but his employer himself and him, crawled back to the surface once more—the closet skeletons he had always wanted to hide and pretend like they weren't there at all.

 

Comfort tasted both sweet and sad on his tongue, and he felt like he shouldn't have said that aloud because it seemed to have become the reason to make his monstrous behavior acceptable even though it probably wasn't at all justifiable before. "Don't be," he whispered breathlessly, moulding himself against James's body frame much like the parasite that he was. It was still rather cold. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I... I can't stand being weak and letting those people hurt the ones I care for anymore..." He shook his head. "I can't... I'm sorry."

 

Bond pressed his mouth against William’s hair lightly, nosing into the soft strands lightly, and he breathed in the citrus smell lightly.

 

"You saved my life..." He whispered.

 

"I think you could have done that without me beating the living daylight out of that thug."

 

Violence. He had never condoned it, yet he had just committed it himself. It was ironic really, but there had always been that anger inside of him that he worked hard to keep in check, especially when he was tired or particularly upset, and channeled it into something else much more productive and useful. Now this happened, and he supposed he wasn't at all doing that much better than their hunter right then. It surprised him that James was still kissing him at all.

 

"Q," he said softly. He had the feeling that Q was the name that he preferred. "It's okay to feel justified in hurting someone who hurt you... If they had hurt you..." He shivered.

 

"When he's trying to kill you... Maybe." Q shrugged, looking up at James and finally, for the first time since they had gotten back, reached up to voluntarily touch the man, his hands brushing over those cheeks. They had just been so happy before... It had almost been as if nothing was wrong in the world and that they had just been any other normal couple who was simply taking a holiday overseas in Indonesia with its clear, emerald green beaches and bright, warm sunlight. It was an unrealistic dream and expectation for them at that certain that certain time, that much Q knew, but still, his sudden bout of raging violence back then seemed to have ruined everything. "But that isn't really a good excuse, is it, love?" 

 

James shuddered with a sheer pleasure at the word he said, pleasure and a very real pain. He licked his lips. "Say that again..." He whispered.

 

Q smiled a sad smiled as he leaned his forehead against James's own. "Say what again, love?" He whispered, feeling like he was trying to lure James into staying with him by using care and comfort and love against the man's inherent loneliness.

 

He groaned quietly and rubbed his nose with Q's lightly. "Don't fall in love with me, Q..." He whispered softly. "I couldn't stand to lose you..."

 

Something shuddered inside of him at that, Q drew in a sharp, shaky breath, tremors tingling his nerve ends and muscles as he looked at James, a twisted pain gnawing at his insides with sharp claws. "I can't stand to lose you either... Not again."

 

"You won't..." He whispered softly. "I promise."

 

"Even though I've just killed someone without regret?" Q asked quietly, his fingers brushing over James's face, memorizing, committing it to his mind. Was he really remorseless about it? That was the one thing that he was unable to tell right then. He just couldn't.

 

"I was trained to kill without remorse and completely without mercy," he said quietly, pressing his forehead against William’s. He drew the sheets up around them and swaddled William.

 

Q couldn't help but chuckle sadly when James wrapped him up in the sheets. "You really like to swarm me in layers, don't you?" He whispered. He didn't mind, he liked it actually. Such caring acts were more or less foreign to him for a long time already himself, even if he knew James needed them more than him. He leaned in and planted a kiss on the other man's nose. "Doesn't mean you're like that, James. You don't... derive sadistic satisfaction from it."

 

Bond grinned and kissed his cheek, and nuzzled. "I like to keep you safe and warm..." He laid him down and pulled the blankets up as he lay himself down next to him.

 

"How chivalrous," Q whispered back, smiling at James's grin despite himself. He buried his face into the man's chest, seeking refuge and warmth and many other things... Seeking a beating heart and solidity.

 

"I'll hold to that promise," he said finally, his voice shakier than he had imagined, as he wrapped an arm around James's chest.

 

James stroked his hair as he rested against his chest. He stroked his hair lightly and kissed the crown lightly.

 

"Try and sleep a bit?" He whispered.

 

Q's eyes were wide, but he nodded anyway. "Okay..." His arm tightened around James, the point of desperation sharp like needles in his lungs and bloodstream, prickling from under his skin. He was glad that the man hadn't turned him away, and he could only hope that this would last. "Thank you..."

 

"What for?" He whispered, kissing his hair.

 

"For protecting me and taking care of me?" He offered, voice a little muffled as his lips were just barely an inch away from James's chest. "For trusting and believing still..."

 

"Thank you for calling me love..." He shivered, and looked down. "It... It hurts to hear you say that... My every instinct is says to run..." He confessed softly.

 

"Do you still feel like running?" Q's eyes turned up to meet with James, snuggling up just that bit closer.

 

"Only when you’re being affectionate," he whispered and turned to curl around him.

 

"What?" Q replied, mildly amused. "Afraid I'm going to go into a mindless fit of rage and try to kill you?" He let out a soft sigh, marbles of silence clicking in the space all around them as he reached up to press a chaste kiss on those lips. "You deserve that and so much more, James," he whispered, voice a little thick.

 

His hand rose and caressed his cheek lightly. "Maybe one day I will get lucky," he whispered and paused before he added something. "I think I already have..."

 

"Really?" Q whispered, wanting to believe that those words would never be directed at another person. "Then don't try to run, maybe?" He suggested quietly.

 

James shook his head. "I won't run," he said softly, tracing his thumb over his lower lip.

  
"Even when I say I may have fallen in love with you?" His voice was quiet, trepidation laden, heart pounding in his ribcage. He stared at James's face, gauging his expressions, breathing slowing down to a near halt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst... the line was from Speed, not my line... but I just had too...


	12. Chapter 12

Bond froze at that, and his eyes widened... Not in horror, or anger... But surprise. Sheer and utter surprise.

 

Q swallowed, his eyelashes fluttering at the very uncertain expression that James was wearing right then. His stomach churned a foul feeling as he turned away. "I'm sorry... it's too... it's still too soon."

 

Bond kissed him and kissed him hard. It was a hungry, possessive kiss and James pushed so he was leaning over him. "Say it again..." He demanded in a growl.

 

Q returned the kiss, the dying embers sparked back into a burning flames with how hungry James seemed to be, how worked up he was about this. It was like delayed reaction finally bursting forth at last. He looked up at James breathlessly, awed and ridiculously happy at the same time. "I have fallen in love with you, James Bond," he said as demanded, his eyes stinging once more. "I have fallen in love with you."

 

Bond moaned and it was almost a pained sound as he pushed against, Q, kissing him, pressing into naked flesh.

 

Q whimpered, his arms winding around James's body, pulling him close, that almost painful moan shook him to the core as it curled around his heart and squeezed. "James," he gasped, toes curling.

 

Taking his hands, he guided them to his body. His scarred, muscled body. "Touch me..." He whispered. "Please..."

 

Q did. He touched James, hands roaming that scarred, firm, beautiful body, reaching up to kiss and nibble at every inch of skin that he could manage, tasting and inhaling in as much of James as he could. His breathed coming out short and labored. "Anything for you, love. Anything."

 

James rolled and pulled Q so that he was straddling him. His voice had gone dark, rough. “Please ..." He was almost begging.

 

Q complied, the rough heat from those words wove around them and spread into his lungs. He didn't waste time and descended upon James like a man possessed, his hands smoothing everywhere along that skin, caressing every scar, every healed injury and closed wound. Q pressed his mouth to suck and kiss James's neck, shoulders, clavicles, nipples, and reaching down to his belly button.

 

James let him roam, let him explore with fever pitch as he touched back. His eyes closed and he clawed at the sheets. "Q..." He called.

 

Q emerged upon hearing the call, creeping up and capturing those lips, softly biting at James's full lower lip, pressing his body down to maintain the contact James yearned for so much. "Yes, love?" He whispered.

 

James pushed up to kiss him. "You on top... Ride me..." He was giving control.

 

Q smiled and nodded. "Okay." He stole another kiss and pulled back, ready and eager to get to work. He snatched James's bag and managed to find a condom before tearing it open and sliding it onto the man's hard cock. He kissed the tip teasingly before spitting into his palm, settling back onto his knees, and began preparing himself. His heart pounded as he looked at James, lost in the moment, and never breaking eye contact. He was still rather loose from that morning, and a little sore still, too, but he wanted this too much to care about any of that right then, to be honest. James was giving himself to him, and Q would be damned before he let it slip.

 

It didn't take long for him to crawl back onto James, positioning himself on top of the shaft, and sitting down carefully, hissing and moaning at the aching burn, loving it all the way.

 

James was sensitive and highly responsive. He arched under the young man, quivering with a whispering sound. There was a slow realisation then - as his hands shot to the man's hips and gripped tightly - that he would never ever have given this kind of control to anyone.

 

He went to sit up, but Q slowly took him and stole the breath from his body. He let out a breathless cry.

 

Q moaned at how responsive James was under him, charged passion filling up the synapses between his neurons, making them fire and sending electrified bursts all over his body.

 

He shivered at James's cry, looking at how his face was coming unraveled with unadulterated pleasure only managed to egg him on, and Q relaxed himself, sitting down all the way until the other man was completely sheathed inside of him, head thrown back and mouth open with a gasped moan.

 

His chest heaved a little, and Q swallowed, his attention narrowing down to just James, and James alone. And he began to move, setting a gradual, rhythmic pace at first.

 

Bond groaned and flopped back into the embrace of the sheets, eyes on the heavens for a moment and then he locked them on Q. His eyes darkened and then softened as he looked up at Q once again.

 

Could he return the sentiment? If he was honest... Right then he could not. Q knew him better than he knew himself, and with his memories in such a mess, he couldn't honestly say that he did... But he was very very fond of the boy, very attracted to him and was... Happy. To some degree, he was happy and he cared deeply.

 

James’s back arched and he groaned loudly.

 

Q clenched up as he lifted himself up and let go as he settled back down, deliberately angling the position just right so he could provide pleasure for them both. At least James looked like he was enjoying it, and that was all he needed right then. That was all he wanted to see and know.

 

In the heat of the moment, with blood rushing through his ears and heart fluttering like wings of that a hummingbird, Q didn't notice the flicker of emotions on James’s face. If he had, he probably wouldn't have been able to interpret it at all with his state of mind right then.

 

He leaned forward and down onto James's torso, sharing the same breath as he groaned and laced their fingers together, gradually increasing his pace.

 

James wrapped around him, meeting him kiss for kiss, touch for touch. Q had power over him, his touch set him on fire. It took him a moment before he realised they he was chanting his name over and over again, wrapping around him and started to meet his movements. His eyes closed, and the name became a reverent prayer. 

 

Q hissed and groaned, sparks of blissful desires pooled and coiled in the pit of his stomach, when James bucked up to meet up with him thrust by thrust. He shivered at the fact his names kept spilling out of James's vulnerable throat, his Adam's apple popping up and down. He kissed them and swallowed the syllables whole.

 

The orgasm streaked through Bond catching his breath and turning his vision white. He gripped Q tightly, and his eyes opened wide. There was a shocked pause and he threw back his head with a breathless cry.

 

Q's movements grew frantic as he tried to rip completion out of them both. James was pulsing inside of him, he could feel it now, and Q shakily reached for himself, giving his shaft a few good strokes, before coming with a choked, breathless cry himself.

 

He tried not to collapse his weight on top of James, and lay down instead, chest heaving, heart thumping, lungs burning, boneless. "James," he whispered airily into the man's skin, nuzzling his neck, and temporarily forgot about the world and himself.

 

He moaned in response and curled around him. Hands went below the sheets and came up with the condom and tied it off. He nosed his hair, his cheek, his jaw until he found his mouth and kissed him sweetly.

 

His heart started to slow and the roar turned into a dull throb. "Sleep now..." Bond whispered in his ear.

 

Q shivered in the soft, warm attention, contented like a cat, as he let out a sigh. He was emotional more than he was logical right then, and Q pursed his lips, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

 

"Okay." He nodded, burying his face into the crook of James's neck and breathed, inhaling his scent, hiding his face at the same time with reality lurking just at the line between awareness and not, ready to seize and strangle him or something along the same line. But he didn't think about that right then and just whispered blearily, "Goodnight, James..." and let go.

 

James waited until his breathing shifted, and his body relaxed against his. He carefully slid the glasses off and put them on the table beside him.

 

For a very long time, he watched the young man... Before he kissed his hair lightly and whispered. "I’m falling in love with you too... I think I am..." He whispered and then lay back to let sleep take him.

 

*

 

_ His hands were shaking. An orange spot of flames flared at the corner of his peripheral vision. The images were jumping and morphing in front of his eyes. One second, there was nothing but dirt on his skin, and the next there was blood—hot, sticky, oozing, dripping, spilling. And red. _

 

Q woke with a sharp intake of breath. It took him a while, but he finally realized that he was curled up next to James inside the hotel room they had rented for the night. They had gone out for dinner, had been attacked, and he had just managed to beat someone to dead in the process, which explained the dream. Sighing, he closed his eyes once more, and burrowed back as far as humanly possible into James. 

 

The wiggling closer went through Bond’s sleep and roused him into awareness. "William? You alright?" He asked quietly, voice slightly slurred with sleep.

 

Q felt like he had barely slept because the slight lightheadedness just ruined it all for him, and he inwardly cursed at himself some more when he realized he had woken up James. "I'm fine," he whispered, draping an arm over the man's bare torso and holding close. "Don't worry," he reassured, pressing a kiss to James's skin. 

 

James rolled over and cuddled close. His eyes were closed but he was obviously awake. "You’re wonderful..." He muttered as he dropped off.

 

Q was... entirely surprised by that because he really hadn't seen it coming. Something whispered in his mind that maybe James was only sleep-talking, but he swatted that away brutally enough because that just couldn't be the case. The man was obviously very much awake and aware when he said that, and the thought made his lips quirked up in a small, faint smile, the soft ache fanning out like caresses of feathers—present, but not wholly there. "You're amazing yourself..." he whispered back, enjoying the warm cuddle with 007. Just a week ago, he would have scoffed at anyone who said this was possible. Hell, a week ago, James Bond was supposedly dead.

 

And now, here they were, snuggled up under the sheets, clinging to one another... It was surreal at best, but he loved it all the same. It was his to hold, after all. 

 

James slept for a few more hours apparently without nightmares. He was quiet beside the boy, breathing deep until he woke and then woke the man in his arms by dragging him closer.

 

Q wasn't sleeping, per se, more like drifting off, verging on the line between sleep and consciousness. He was still more or less aware of the light filtering through the window behind his eyelids after all, and so wasn't surprised when James pulled him closer. "Morning for real," he murmured. 

 

"Do we have to wake up?" Bond asked quietly as he kissed the skin in front of his closed eyes.

 

The kiss landed on his eyebrow and brushing at his eyelid a little, making Q chuckled as he pulled the blankets up to cover them both up even farther. "Not really." He leaned up to kiss James's slightly pouty lip. It was all joking and everything, of course, but it felt good to be able to do this still, even in their situation. They just had to wait here until Eve delivered their papers to them. 

 

James ran a hand up and down Q's spine in a lazy way, eyes closed sleepily and smiled. "You chase away the nightmares...." He whispered, humming as he tried to wake himself up.

 

Q breathed in, enjoying the intimacy immensely. The way James's hand kept on running up and down his spine was beginning to grow on him. "Really?" Q whispered softly back, his fingers tracing random patterns along James's skin. "I'm glad to hear that." He looked up at the other man, pleased with himself that he had managed to help him in some way, after all. And Q could only hope he wouldn't become a nightmare himself. 

 

James could only draw him into a slow kiss as they lay together before he opened his eyes fully. "How long until - what did you call her? Moneypenny? - gets the tickets and we can get to Rome?"

 

And the spell was broken. But it was okay, he supposed, sweetness and tenderness could only last for so long, and he was happy to get as much of it in their present situation as he could. Q thought about it for a bit before saying, "She has always been swift and efficient, so I don't reckon it's going to take long." 

 

Bond shifted so that the young man was laying on top and looking down at him. His hand wandered over his spine. "Penny for your throughs..." He muttered.

 

Q smiled, his fingers smoothing over James's hairline. "It's just... it's a shame that we can’t stay like this... you know?" He smiled sadly, leaning against the other man's chest. 

 

"Happy?" He coaxed, trying to understand. "Why can't we stay happy?"

 

Q shook his head. "Not completely yet anyway." His forefinger continued to trace meaningless patterns into James's skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wished this had been just a lazy Sunday lie in, no more. No madman chasing you down to drill into your head, no henchmen trying to put holes into your body. "Happy, content... we can be both when this all ends... right?" He turned to smile up at James. 

 

James opened his mouth, as if to say something... But the words got stuck on his tongue. He frowned, and seemed almost confused... And looked away. "We could leave... Vanish together, just me and you..."

 

"Yes, we can do that," Q replied, a silly grin on his lips despite everything, a flutter of hope twirling in his stomach. It didn't last long, but it was wonderful anyhow. It was still a wonderful prospect. "Just you and me. But... we can only be undisturbed if we bring down Nine Eyes and all that it entails... Otherwise, they're going to find us anywhere we go." He reached up, one hand cupping James's cheek. "I want a life where you don't have to look over your shoulder anymore." 

 

Bond made a sigh and pressed against him. He wanted run, to hide and just take this wonderful wonderful man with him. "I have to keep you out of their grasp..." He muttered. "Otherwise they will use you to get to me... They will hurt you..."

 

"I'll be careful, James," Q promised, knowing the man's haunting past and understanding his fears. "And I know you'll protect me, too." He continued to stroke James's hairline. "But please... take better care of yourself? I don't want you to get hurt, either, even if that's impossible right now." 

 

James smiled sadly and took Q's hand, pressing it down over his heart. It thumped there, strong and steady and full of life. "The only way they could hurt me is by hurting you," he said with painful honesty. “And it was only a scratch.”

 

Q pressed his ear down next to where James had placed his hand to listen to the steady thumping of his strong heart. He shivered. The sound both soothing and terrifying at the same time—terrifying because he was afraid that one day, he would not get to hear it again. Just that thought alone made his throat tighten painfully. "Then, we'll just have to keep each other safe." His voice came out a little shaky, and Q swallowed, smiling up at James. 

 

James pulled him down and pressed his mouth to Q's as there was a knock at the door. "Sirs? You have a package."

 

"Must be our papers," Q muttered, leaning up to plant a kiss on James's nose. "I'll go get it." 

 

It was the forged papers, and the air line tickets for a flight later that day. " We have to get to the airport first without getting killed," he said thoughtfully.

 

Q nodded. "Let's go, then." And they got changed quickly, and gathered their clothes and all other belongings, before returning the room and headed out under the sunlight. Q stuck close to James, his memory was winding back to the day before with the dead people, that woman, and him beating the living daylight out of that thug. It was okay. It was okay. James was there. 

 

"You’re alright?" James said and pulled Q against him. His fingers roamed lazily, grounding and touching. "Stay focused," he said gently.

 

"I'm all right," Q reassured Bond with a soft nod. They didn't get breakfast, but Q didn't think it was the priority right then, as they quietly and silently got themselves another means of transportation and left. The airport wasn't too far away, but it wasn't the sort of distance that could be covered on foot. 

 

James drove the little car to the airport. "Are you sure we had to blend in?" He grumbled.

 

Q chuckled. "Yes, very much so," he whispered, leaning in and placing the sunglasses over James's eyes. Suddenly, he was starting not to like sunglasses much. True, they accentuated his facial features, but they hid away those wonderful, brilliant blue eyes, and he didn't like that. He gave James's lips a chaste kiss. "Come on, love." 

 

"I feel like some sort of rock star... Driving a Volkswagen," he grumbled as he got in the car, and put the seat belt on. Moneypenny had included a credit card and a handwritten note - 'for your travels through the EU. Be safe' there was also tickets for a hotel on the other end. James reached across for Q's hand and guided it to his thigh before he started to drive.

 

"Well," Q began, settling into his seat, too. "You used to wear a suit most of the time, rather impeccable, so you've always been sort of like a rock star." He chuckled, putting on his seat belt as well, and gave James's thigh a reassuring squeeze as they sped off.

 

The drive to the airport was uneventful, but as they drove, James got quieter and quieter… and he nearly killed them both in a collision with an oncoming car when he suddenly pulled to the side of the road, stopping in a layby. 

“I…” The words were stuck in his throat and he choked on them. “I… don’t know… how to do this… What if I can’t get my memory back… what if… you’re not real… and I have finally gone mad…” He laughed bitterly, gripping the wheel of the car, so hard that his knuckles had gone white.

 

Q gripped the seat of his car with a sharp intake of breath when James almost hit another car and suddenly pulled over. For a moment there, he thought they had been spotted, but James had already begun even before he needed to ask anything, the man's explanation thick and and bitter, enough to see that it had been eating him up from the inside out for a while... No wonder he had been so quiet all this time.

 

"James," Q whispered, reaching over for the man. "I'm as real as you are, love." He reached for one of his hands, prying it from the wheel, before placing it over his heart—the same thing James had done to keep him calm back at the hotel. "See?" His heart was beating loud and strong, if only a little fast because of what had just happened. "And... you will get your memory back. I have high hopes that you will." He swallowed, pulling up that hand which had been over his heart and pressing a kiss to its palm. "But even if you don't... it won't matter, at least to me..."

 

Not for the first time since the start of this all did Q wonder if he had said something wrong again. "I'm sorry if I'd said something to upset you again."

 

James shook his head, but he couldn’t look at Q. He could not see the love and the devotion in the young man’s eyes, because knowing that he was cared for… knowing that he was loved, it hurt so much that he couldn’t look at him… knowing that Q probably wouldn’t survive this… just like he probably wouldn’t. He was okay with the latter.

“It’s not you,” he whispered. “It’s me… it… I’m scared, Q… I know Indonesia… the rest of the world… It’s a foreign place to me…” 

 

"It's a foreign place to me, too..." Q replied. "Hell, I don't even know how much I know about Indonesia... James..." But the man wasn't looking at him. And with him already having a hard time deciphering people's emotions even while they were staring him straight in the face, Q hated this. He didn't like not knowing. He didn't like the sunglasses.

 

So, he did the only logical thing right then: he got rid of the sunglasses from covering those eyes. "James... James, look at me.  _ Look at me _ ." His hand rested on the man's cheek, his voice near a pleading, but he still didn't use force. "I know you're scared... so am I. But you have to believe we can get through this together, you have to have faith... otherwise... we will never make it." 

 

Without words, James turned his head to look at Q… and the worry and the anxiety were there in his cold eyes. His head turned and tilted into his hand, his eyes, closed for a long moment as he tried to remember how to breathe.

 

Q shivered when those icy cold eyes turned to him, but the turmoil there was difficult to ignore, and he didn't cower away from it. Instead, he allowed his thumb to trace over James's cheekbone in a soothing pattern, helping as much as he could to calm the man down as well. 

 

He did start to calm. His eyes closed as he gathered up the shards of himself slowly. Pride… he found some of that. Courage… yes, there was some of that too… quite a lot of that. Sheer bloody mindedness, he had a large helping of it. He had been shattered, broken, but he was starting to put himself back together. Bit by bloody bit. 

“I am going to kill him…” Bond growled slowly.

 

Q snorted a soft, shaky sort of laugh, glad that James seemed to have calmed down a lot. "That's the spirit." As long as he got to help James, then maybe things could be alright, after all. "Come on," he swallowed, "we have a plane to catch."

 

James nodded, feeling calmer… but it didn’t stop him bringing Q’s hands back to his thigh.

 

Q sighed and squeezed James's thigh. He would not become a burden to them, to James, he promised himself. He wouldn't. 

 

"You okay?" he asked quietly. 

 

"Yes," Q replied, with a small smile, as though he hadn't just more or less thought of killing himself should it ever come down to someone using him to get to James. But it wouldn't come down to that. It really wouldn't. 

 

Reaching over to him, Bond pressed a hand to his leg lightly. “It would be a shame to actually crash the car, you know,” James drawled, “After my spectacular driving. What’s in your head?”

 

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Q leered at James, his eyes halfheartedly narrowed. But the man was right, it really would be a waste to crash this Volkswagen. "And I don't doubt your spectacular driving skills." He knew he was stalling, but he needed time to work out how to say this right.

 

In the end, he decided to just withdraw the hand he had on the man's thigh and placing it over the one James had on his. "I won't let anything happen to me, so you focus on not letting anything happen to you, all right?" he said finally. 

 

“Nothing will happen to me, William,” James said softly, he said as he glanced at the man over his shoulder, watching him, then back to the road. They turned off at the sign for the airport.

 

_ Yes, and you're not James Bond. _ Q thought to himself, but smiled nonetheless. They made it to the airport safely (thank God), and finally parked the car and began looking for the cargo plane Moneypenny had prepared for them. The cargo section was just as bustling as any other, but they did manage to find what they had been looking for.

 

Michael was the name of the pilot. "Get in," he muttered, looking around and gesturing back to his aircraft as the swirled of engines whirred all around them. "Once you've gotten to Italy, I've never seen you before. You're on your own."

 

That much was understandable and the both of them quickly got out of sight.

 

James wrinkled his nose as they got into the hold, because the noise was extortionate, loud and bloody ridiculous all at the same time. “It’s a fifteen hour flight in here, you know,” he drawled as he pulled off his jacket to sit on, then stood up again. “Here… help me search for stuff to wrap up in,” because a cargo hold would not be heated and at altitude, they would feel it.

 

Q nodded, and began looking, the loud noise making his ears ring in a strangely lightheaded way. It was then that Michael came bustling in, his brown eyes cautious as they had been just back then, but his arms were holding quite a large sack. "Here," he said, handed them over to Q. "You're still my responsibility until we get to Italy, and I know how ridiculously cold this can get."

 

Q stared at it and nodded. "Thank you." He reached out to accept the large sack.

 

"No problem. But I can't help you much from now on, okay? So take care." He turned away at that. "We're taking off in ten."

 

It was full of blankets, horrible scratchy things but they would stay warm under the layers and layers. Bond emptied them and started to make some sort of nest against the far wall, tucking them between boxes. "Time to get cosy," he called to them.

 

Q couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight of their little nest. Far better than anything they would have managed to salvage here anyway, so he was glad nonetheless. "It's looking wonderful," he said playfully as he approached. It was still funny, watching James arrange it all, even if he was very appreciative of it. 

 

James sat down and extended his arms to Q to ease him down. They didn't need to wrap up yet, it was still sweltering... But he pressed his sticky self to Q.

 

Q smiled, ridiculously contented even though they could die at any moment of any hour of any day. He didn't mind the stickiness and pressed against James, too. "This is going to be the most memorable holiday," he mused with a chuckle. 

 

"You said something to me last night," James said suddenly. "You told me that... You had fallen in love with me. Did you mean that?" The engine began to whirr and the volume went up several decibels. He had found ear plugs in the bag and handed Q a pair, shoving a set in his ears.

 

Q did catch the question, thankfully enough, but wasn't able to answer it considering he was, instead, wincing at the loud sound of the starting engines. He took the offered earplugs and stuck them in, glad for a bit of insulation because he was starting to feel like he might need to have a hearing check-up after this.

 

Once done, he turned back to James. "I meant every word," he mouthed before nodding, in case the man didn't catch the words, and kissed him just as the plane began rumbling a little, probably starting on her trip down the runway. 

 

Bond kissed him back, deepening it until he was breathless and his toes curled. His hand reached out and pulled Q against him, hard. Side by side, they lay together and Bond mouthed out seven words.

 

"I think I might love you too."

 

Q groaned, sparks of shivers traveling up his spine as he followed up to the kiss and fell into James's hold. He looked at James for a long moment just as the seven words fell out from those lips, and his breath hitched. Q hadn't expected it. He hadn't expected James to say that aloud at all, considering all the horror he had gone through... so much so that even with amnesia, the pain was still enough for him to remember even through his dreams.

 

His eyes and nose stung for a moment, and Q broke out in a silly, stupid grin, his eyes fluttering rapidly, before seizing the other man into his arms, squeezing him tightly. 

 

Bond wrapped around him and pressed his face into his neck, and exhaled with a soft sigh that neither of them could hear.

 

"Try and sleep," he mouthed.

 

Q shot him a look. "How?" he mouthed back with a chuckle, gesturing at the surroundings. "Besides, we just got up." 

 

He grinned. "Then rest," he mouthed. "Or I will have to wear you out."

 

Q smirked cheekily. "How are you going to do that?" He replied, finding lip-reading, at least at close proximity, was starting to become rather amusing.

 

He grinned and slipped under the blankets, and his mouth brushed over his stomach, trailing kisses down to the join between trousers and shirt, nuzzling to find flesh.

 

Q shivered when James disappeared, his hot mouth leaving fiery imprints in its wake, tingling his flesh and  really hadn't thought James had been serious about it.

 

He was deadly serious, and his hands found the zipper of his fly. He knew that he was a nervous flyer and he wanted to give him an up close and personal introduction into the mile high club.

 

Q squirmed, his toes curling. "James," he whispered, forgetting for a moment there that James couldn't very well hear him, then reached down to hold the man's shoulders, keeping this as tangible as he could. The noise was growing louder and louder, pressing into his ears along with the plugs, and Q tried to keep calm as the pressure weight down on his chest, swallowing down his flying anxiety. 

 

James exposed him slowly and even though he wasn't hard, took him into his mouth.

 

Q hissed, gasping when James suddenly took him into his mouth in one swift move. He arched a little, his thighs instinctively spreading, as his pulse sped up for an entirely different reason other than flying, altitude, and turbulence.

 

Bond grinned wolfishly, and sucked gently until the blood started racing, and the man filled out in his mouth. His hands planted on Q's hips and he held them firmly, flat on the ground as he sucked.

 

Q moaned, the tight heat of James's mouth overriding his senses and pushed the anxiety of taking off, landing, and flying in general away the edge of his mind. His blood rushed faster, racing toward his cold, somewhat clammy extremities and warming them up quickly.

 

He let out a small, sharp whine when James planted his hips flat to the floor, withholding his liberty of movement. The limited hearing somehow managed to excite him further as well, having only four senses left to focus on.

 

James looked up at him and then arched an eyebrow at his flushed face and an idea crossed his mind when he realised what it was that was turning Q on. He dragged Q’s trousers off... Then used the leg of one of them to cover his eyes.

 

Q didn't know what was going on when he felt his trousers peeling from his skin, but that ended shortly when he realized James was using one of the legs to cover up his eyes. "J-James?" he gasped, reflexively trying to reach up and pull the trousers away to see what was going on.

 

James reached up and kissed him, reassuring. One hand was on his hips, the other between his legs.

 

Q let out a soft sigh and kissed back, relaxing a bit and ceasing his hands from going up to pull down the material that was covering up his eyes. His breaths came out in bursts, wanting very much to roll his hips against that calloused hand very much but he wanted to enjoy this, too, the spikes of pleasure fanning out under his skin, threatening to pierce through.

 

James slid back down him and pushed his hips back down and lowered his mouth and began to flutter his tongue over the head of Q's penis, the other hand wrapping around the shaft.

 

Q moaned when James's tone flicked across his slit, letting out a pitched whine when his hips once again were pinned in place. The lack of vision and hearing at the same time rendered it impossible to know where James would be and what would happened next. Normally, that would scared him. Without control, it felt like something bad was going to happen... But this was just James, this was a controlled environment, albeit being on a rumbling plane up 35 thousands feet in the air, and Q felt more... exhilarated than scared.

 

And up there at thirty thousand feet, James took him apart slowly. There was none of the heated rush, because James had something like sixteen hours to kiss him, to pleasure him and to take him apart carefully. His hand worked the shaft as he sucked on the head, tonguing the slit lightly.

 

Honestly, Q couldn't tell if they had reached altitude or not. Perhaps they had, considering that the general shaking wasn't there as much anymore, but really, right then, his sole concern was James Bond and the man's hot, sensual mouth that was then wrapped around his erection. He whimpered, whining pathetically at the achingly slow pace that was starting to unravel him more than he thought possible. He gasped, calling out the man's name and trying to move his hips.

 

James wouldn't let him, and every time he pushed up, he pushed down firmly. He couldn't hear a damn thing and was more then happy to take his sweet sweet time, licking and sucking, and learning every inch of him. He grinned... And gently sucked one of the sensitive testicles into his mouth.

 

Q's fingers slipped into James's hair, his hold tightening and jerking at irregular intervals but very much in time with the way how the man's mouth and tongue were working on him. He let out a sharp cry when James sucked in one of his testicles, hissing and toes curling. He didn't even pay attention to whether his hands were tugging too harshly or not, but God, it wasn't something he could help with right then. 

 

Bond growled as he tugged. Maybe one day he would tie the boy up and give him nothing but sensational overload until he couldn't take anything more. One hand came out the cocoon and reached for the bag. With one hand, he found the lubricant and coated his fingers before slowly starting to tease his entrance.

 

His chest heaved, Q decided to direct his grips to the nest of blankets below and spared James a bit of physical pain. Something told him that it would be a wise choice for him to knock the earplugs out of the man's ears, but really, his brain was far too addled right then to think of much past that point. Especially when James had started on teasing his entrance as well.

 

He jumped at the suddenly pressure and slickness, a moan perching on his lips as he pressed his legs against James's sides out of reflex.

 

James grinned as he felt the pressure. His finger twisted and then curled slowly. He found that sweet spot and stroked it carefully, over and over again, timing it as he teased the crown of his erection.

 

Distantly, Q realized that he probably should thank James for this because he mostly didn't remember his flying anxiety anymore, not right then anyway, and that was already enough as it was. His hips still jerked in timed reaction to all the stimulation James was giving him, and he gasped, gripping around the man's finger. Just it alone didn't feel as good, even though the pad of fingertip kept rhythmically brushing over his prostate. Q's thighs spread with a loud gasp, his skin burning and the fire coiling in the pit of his stomach growing more intense; he wanted more. He wanted James to be inside of him because this was just too torturous.

 

Bond growled and shoved the trousers out the way. "I want you," he mouthed over the sound of the engines.

 

What James mouth, with the bit of blanket over his eyes, Q didn't see, but he did notice, starkly so, how his trousers had been peeled off his skin all the way through in one swift shove. He gasped loudly, a noise that sounded like a breathless moan, excitement running its due course, and arched up. Chest heaving, he reached blindly for James. "Take me, please..." He was almost close to pleading. "Just take me already."

 

James arched over him, a lion claiming his prize. The engines roared but all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his veins. Pinning his wrists above his head, Bond captured him in heated kiss.

 

Q groaned. James had seized control of most of his body movement, and that sent shivers up his spine, goosebumps crawling along his flesh. It was exhilaration with an edge to it, considering that he was being manually restrained while having his vision and hearing covered. He moaned into the kiss, inhaling in James's scent and sucking on those soft, wonderful lips, tasting a hint of musk there in that intense heat that probably must belong to him, and the nape of Q's neck burned—pleasure teasing at his nerve ends and spinning him closer and closer to oblivion.

 

The air had a distinct chill to it now and although it was nothing like it would be in a few hours. He tapped Q's jaw lightly to get his attention. "Keep your hands here," he warned over the noise.

 

Tremors wracked through his body, and Q tried to gather what was left of his scattered attention to follow James's words.  _ Keep my hands... _ "Okay," he breathed with a soft nod even though the fibres in his body ached to just reach up, to cover that short distance between them, and caress every inch of exposed skin that he could, if only to make this as solid as he could.

 

Bond started to kiss down his body, over the clothes while his hands wandered under them to touch him, restless, and wanting him. His hands teased his nipples as he reached for the bag, searching for protection.

 

"James," Q squirmed, the trailing kisses making his insides twist and ache, wishing and yearning for more. He bit his lip to keep the want from overwhelming his sense of control and maintaining the positions of his arms, despite feeling like there were ants crawling underneath his skin, itching to get out.

 

James arched and curled over him, lifting his hips to him, and slowly pushed into him, inch by inch

 

Q grunted when his hips were finally lifted, and James began to push in. Penetration managed to tense his body up, but with how slightly desperate he was, he willed his muscles to loosen up again and the other man in, inch by slow inch, his walls gripping down somewhat from time to time as though aching to draw in as much as he could. And he moaned when James was, at last, all the way in, filling him up tightly and beautifully to the brim.

 

James groaned and dipped his head to slant his mouth over his as he started to roll his hips slowly, guiding Q's arms around his neck as he moved.

 

Q eagerly returned the kiss and wound his arms around James's neck, soaking up the proximity and intimacy like a dry sponge, legs hooking behind the man. Both his lungs and heart were working to their fullest capacity just to keep up with the demand of blood and rushing oxygen in his veins.

 

The air in the cargo hold was filtered and compressed like the front compartment but it didn't feel enough as Bond undulated over Q, rolling his hips in a firm rhythm, kissing whatever he could reach.

 

Q shuddered as his hands traced down from caressing James's neck to spreading out along the man's back. He rocked back to meet with every movement, small, pleasured noises leaving his throat as he nuzzled against the man's face and nibble at the crook of of his neck before sucking an earlobe between his teeth, grazing non too harshly against the soft flesh.

 

Bond sighed with satisfaction and turned his head, letting Q explore the sensitive flesh around his ear lightly. He arched his back and thrust, creating a firmer friction.

 

Q made note of the reaction, memorizing that this was one of James's sensitive spots—as far as he could tell anyway. And he gasped, his hot breaths brushing against the sensitive ear shell, when the man finally thrust in, sending a subtle current of electricity up his spine. He moaned, the sound vibrating, and kissed James's ear, the tip of his tongue flicking out somewhat for a bit of a wet tease.

 

He growled and kissed down his jaw and his neck and sucked a bruise into the skin as they made love, tangled in blankets, clinging too to each other, holding on. Needy and vulnerable, James pressed into him, desperate.

 

Q whimpered, liquid fire thrumming inside his body, making him feel for alive than he had ever had in a long time, and he wanted to do nothing more than to burrow in James's arms right then and never leave. He swallowed thickly. "Faster, love," he whispered breathlessly. "Give you all to me."

 

James couldn't hear anything above the roar of the plane and the blood in his ears. "Come for me... I want to see you," he mouthed over and over again, tilting his hips and his hand found the slick erection against his belly and he started to pump is slowly, his hand a fist.

 

Q's breaths came out in short, sharp bursts as James thrust into him over and over again, stimulating his prostate. His spine tingled at the repeated request, and he gasped when the man slipped down to pay attention to his hard cock once more. He swallowed, eyes clouded with unadulterated pleasure that overrode his senses and pushed him toward the edge that he had been barely skirting for quite some time already. He arched into James's touch, blunt nails digging half moons into the man's back through the fabric of his shirt, and finally threw his head back with a sharp cry, his body going into spasms with overwhelming, blissful spots exploding before his eyes.

 

Distantly, he could hear himself gasping out James's name.

 

It took a moment for James to follow the lead of his younger lover and his eyes locked into Q's as pleasure shot up his spine line a comet and he came card, shuddering and his cries were lost in the roar of the engine.

 

James's body went rigid for a moment there, and Q could feel him pulse inside of him, body shuddering as the building pleasure reached its climax and toppling over, spilling at the seams. He shivered, too, holding the other man close to him and smoothing his hands along that board, solid back, sighing in contentment. "I love you," he mouthed discreetly, kissing along James's strong, stubborn jaw.

 

James slipped out and tied off the condom as he slipped it off, and tucked it away. He pulled his trousers on and helped Q get freshened up before helping him on with his trousers. The compartment was starting to get cold now... James breath rose in front of his face and he wrapped around Q.

 

Q breathed and quickly pulled up his trousers after freshening up and curled into James's arms, pulling the thick blankets up to cover them both. Silently, he pressed a kiss to the hollow at the base of the man's throat.

 

Bond wrapped around him, drawing him close and drawing the blankets and his lover close. His fingers wandered over his hair lazily.

 

The plane jerked, and Q froze, his body seizing a little, as he burrowed a little into James, closing his eyes and trying to enjoy the feeling of those nimble fingertips playing with his hair.

 

James tightened his grip and rocked him gently. There were no words - not that he could understand them in this din

 

At least, the first hard part of taking off had already passed thanks to James's skillful mouth and everything else, Q thought to himself and tried to relax in James's tight hold, happy that the man was trying to soothe him as much as he could in this sort of situation. Gradually, somewhere, in the rhythmic rocking, Q somehow fell asleep.

 

James pulled back just enough to watch Q sleep. He watched him sleep for a long time with a growing sense of wonder and satisfaction, blinking slowly.

  
The smile grew on his face before he held Q close and closed his eyes. Rest. They both needed it.


	13. Chapter 13

It did get increasingly colder the longer they flew, and the dropped temperature made Q a little sluggish as his body tried to maintain a steady, constant heat. But curled in James's arms provided enough comfort to last him through it, he supposed, more than enough... 

 

Just as he was drifting into consciousness once more, he was woken up by a small noise. Blearily, he opened up his eyes and saw Michael, their pilot, standing there with another bag, this one small and clear. "Ration and water for you two," he said, a tinge of color on his face with a sprinkle of awkwardness as he put the bag down at their feet. "I'll leave them here for you.” He paused then gestured to the door. “Uhm... I'll be in the front. Call me if you absolutely need it, okay?"

 

Q blinked. "Okay. Thank you." With that, the man stalked away.

 

James felt Q move and stirred from his slumber, tightening his grip on the younger man. He grumbled incoherently and pressed his face into the back of his neck, and threw one leg over him. A shiver ran through him.

 

Q chuckled, falling back into James's embrace easily, shivering when he felt the man's hot breaths fanning out on the sensitive skin of the nape of his neck, as he pulled that arm closer to his own, almost like a living pillow. "You're like a giant cat, James," he mumbled, kissing the man's knuckles.

 

James roused into consciousness and kissed his shoulder lightly. His hand came around and rested on his... Before he started to tap lightly. Most people would think that James was a little odd, but he knew that Q would understand the question in the Morse code.

 

_ Are you okay? _

 

Q blinked away the sleep from his eyes and focused on the tapping, smiling when the words began appearing clearly in the forefront of his mind. Brilliant way of communication on James's part; his mind was still too addled right then to think of anything.

 

_ Jumpy,  _ he tapped back,  _ but it's not as bad as last time. _

 

Bond pressed his mouth against his shoulder and grinned wolfishly.

 

_ Good company?   _ he tapped back.

 

Q rolled his eyes but smiled amusingly nonetheless. 

 

_ I can feel your grin,  _ he deadpanned.  _ But yes. Very good company. _

 

Bond was vaguely aware of laughter then realised that it was himself who was laughing as he nuzzled at Q.

 

_ Glad you think so. _

 

Even though he couldn't quite hear James's laugh, the deep rumbling vibration that seeped into his back was something that he could feel, and Q smiled. 

 

_ You are like a giant cat, _ he repeated, knowing that James couldn't have possibly caught it the first time.

 

_ Is that good? _

 

_ I'm a cat person _ . Q chuckled. _ So it is all good _ . And he snuggled back into James.  _ Very cuddly. _  Somehow, he found himself snickering somewhat at that. James Bond and cuddly... that shouldn't have been possible to squeeze together into one sentence before, but it was then, and he honestly had no complaints.

 

James rumbled with content.

 

_ Then I shall consider myself adopted,  _ he replied affectionately.

 

_ Twist will like you,  _ Q replied.  _ Oliver would have, too. _ He smiled a little sadly at that, even more so when he realized that he hadn't been calling to check back on how Twist was doing for the past few days already. Later, he thought to himself, after they had landed.

 

James pressed a kiss to his shoulder lightly and curled close to him.  _ I don't know how to deal with animals. _ He had no former experience and his life didn't allow it.

 

_ No prior experience required. _ Q tapped with a silly smile, the words almost echoing the voice of one of those employee-looking flyers. _ Just give the relationship time to build. Twist will trust you soon enough... That, and people who give him belly rubs and snacks. _

 

There was a pause from Bond before he replied, and it seemed cautious.  _ Is that an invitation into your life? _

 

Q did catch the pause and that slight bit of hesitation, and shifted so he would be facing James once more. The gleam in his eyes was serious. _ I see no reason why I should not invite my lover into my life, _ he replied carefully, not breaking eye contact with the other man.

 

James broke it, looking away hesitantly _. Because too many people die... I know that much. _

 

Q reached up, brushing his fingers along the side of James's face with a sigh.  _ Doesn't mean you are not allowed, or cannot have, happiness. _

 

James pressed his forehead to Q, and a violent tremble ran through his body. He didn't reply, couldn't meet they gaze as he held him.

 

Q leaned in to place a reassuring kiss between James's brows, hoping it would help ease his worries and fears, before reaching out to hold the man as well, their bodies flush against one another—sharing one heat, one space of air, and an equal chance to have a good life, something which Q was determined to show James that he had the right to have as well.

 

James pressed back, drawing him close and letting himself rest there, eventually beginning to doze off.

 

It was Q's turn to watch James sleep, the hardened lines relaxing on the man's face and the dim light softening out the hard edges. It was cold outside of these arms, and the flight was rough, and he fell asleep again with the wandering thought of how he was ever going to prove to James that the man deserved happiness just as equally as anyone, if not even more so.

 

*

 

Time flew by at an almost literal sense and not soon enough, James was gripping Q tightly as they prepared to land. "Easy, baby," he breathed, enunciating the words so that Q could understand. "I've got you... You’re safe..."

 

Q hated the fact that his hands and feet turned cold whenever he was scared or stressed out, and right then, he was all of that—scared, stressed out, and cold. His stomach coiled and clenched uncomfortably tight while he bit down on his lip and tried his hardest not to appear too distraught. But James was there, and the man acted almost like a lifeline that Q could only very gladly cling on to in order to get through the rough turbulence. 

 

Worse, there was no safety belt here, and his mind was ridiculously conjuring up all sort of scenarios where this could end rather badly. 

 

He buried his face into the crook of James's neck, trying to regulate his breathing, and nodded.

 

James had his arms around Q, his foot braced against cheaply imported sofas from Indonesia. His arms were locked around him, gripping his own wrists so to make it as secure as he could for the young man.

 

As the altitude dropped, for fleeting seconds there, the pressure seemed to skid on his skin and made Q feel almost as if they were floating. His ears were ringing softly again, and it could have been much worse without the earplugs and James essentially becoming his safety cushion. Q squeezed his eyes shut, internally cursing at planes and all of this flying, as his body jerked when the aircraft first touched down the runway, the shock rumbling the cargo compartment and them along with it.

 

Then it took another one and one more before everything stabilized and was stationary on the ground. By then, Q's hands were already clutching at James's body probably a little too tightly as it was.

 

James tugged out his earplugs and then tugged out Q's. "You alright?" He asked, sounding way too loud and scowled at the sound of his voice.

 

He probably wasn't, but their ears had gotten acquainted with the muffled noises to none, so there was really no helping it. Q shakily removed himself from James when he felt the other man move, slightly lightheaded and a little disoriented. He nodded, licking his dry lips. "Y-yeah."

 

James was pretty sure that he had aged in the sixteen hours that he had been sat in there little next. He rose and stretched slowly, back creaking.

 

Q watched, stretching himself, with a faint smile. He would never retract his assessment that James was like a giant cat. "Are  _ you _ okay?" he asked, approaching so he was standing near the man.

 

"Getting to old for this shit," he replied dryly as he stretched, back popping. 

 

Q couldn't quite hold back a soft laugh. "Did I hold on too tight then?" he asked in a teasing tone, but really, maybe it would have been better if he had been more active in attempting to make James comfortable himself instead of the other way around. But his flying anxiety had prevented that pretty much, so there was no other way for him to make up for this other than to wait for later on. As it stood, being on a metal contraption held together by nails, bolts, a frame, and a few engines at 30 thousand feet up in the air didn't constitute his idea of 'safe' traveling.

 

He smiled and nuzzled Q's neck affectionately. He heard doors and panels being opened and the heat rushed in like a physical blow. They were on the tarmac.

 

"We should get lost," Bond said softly, gripping his hand.

 

Their little moment broken, Q grabbed his knapsack and nodded, squeezing James's hand back, as they made for the door, slipping out quietly and inconspicuously. It seemed like they had arrived during the late afternoon early evening, and he actually appreciated the warmth that was then tingling their too cold skin after the initial heat shock wore off. It did help ease out the tension a little, and with the fog clearing from his mind, Q started plotting again. First, they needed to map out their travel route after finding a place to rest for the night (they both needed it), and he should get a new SIM for his phone.

 

"We have a reservation for a hotel..." James pointed ahead at the fence that surrounded the air field, complete with barbed wire and guards patrolling the perimeter. "First, we need to get over that..." he breathed, hands twitching. 

 

Q stared at the seven or eight foot tall fence and licked his lips. "Okay," he breathed back, already a little nervous. "Climbing over it then?"

 

James nodded as he crouched a little as a guard wandered past slowly. "We need to be ready to run…”

 

Q crouched down too, his body and muscles shifting into a different mode, tense like a taunt guitar string, ready to jump into action.

 

Bond kissed his shoulder lightly and crouched a little. His eyes flicked back and forth. "Are you ready?"

 

Q smiled, hoping inwardly that his physical ability wouldn't ruin this for them both. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied with a soft joking note. And once the foreseeable path was cleared, with no guards in sight at all, they took the chance and ran.

 

The pair crashed against the fence, and Bond chucked his coat over the barbed wire at the top. He crouched and linked his fingers together, ready to give a leg up.

 

Q got the cue, pushing his bag to the back so it wouldn't hinder free arms-legs coordination and movements. 

 

"One," he began to count softly. "Two, Three." And Q used the momentum to get himself up the fence as far as he could go. The loops of barb wires were right insight, and suddenly the word 'anti-climbing' from one of those fence-commission companies flashed back before his eyes. Thankfully, the loops weren't at all that big, and he held on, not making a sound when the barbs dug into his skin and flesh, before taking off his knapsack and allowing it to land over on the other side. The impact wasn't too great, and all he could really hope then that everything else he had put inside there had been made okay cushioning. 

 

Somehow, he managed to hurl himself over the fence, landing on his feet (and maybe his shins, too)  and crumpling a little, but he got up quickly afterwards and retrieved his bag back, turning to look at James.

 

The only sound was the footsteps on the chain link fence as he ascended and dropped over the other side, dragging his jacket down with him. He didn't stop to think, just grabbed Q's hand and ran.

 

Their legs took them out of the airport finally and into the streets as quickly as they could manage. They didn't stop until they were quite a distance away, leaning against a wall and trying to catch their breaths. Q took the package Moneypenny had sent them out once his heart had stopped throwing itself against his ribcage, trying to see what was the name of the hotel she had prepared for them both.

 

“Where are we?” Bond asked quietly, and there was something like unease in his tone. It wasn’t nerves… or at least, it was not quite nerves but there was something unsteady in his stance, because he had no idea where he was.

 

Aeroporto Marco Polo Di Venezia. 

 

The words focused before his eyes. And Q stared for a moment. "Venice," he said, his voice quiet. Of all places in freaking Italy, it has to be bloody Venice. "The hotel is near here," he continued, keeping his voice neutral and steady because right then, he didn't know what was flickering through James's mind. "Let's go."

 

The trust in James was deep. Probably too deep as he nodded to Q and walked after him. He did not know… He had no idea that this was where the brunette had died, where he had lost a part of himself with her. He could not remember…

 

Q laced fingers with James, his gut twisting inside as he debated whether or not he should reveal to the man about what had happened here. What had happened between him and Vesper Lynd. Regardless of his choice, it would ultimately end up hurting the man. 

 

The hotel wasn't too far away from the airport, and they got there by evening. It was the Courtyard Venice, and while it was a little more luxurious than he had thought, Moneypenny had noted that there was a car waiting for them in the car park, so he couldn't really complain.

 

Bond sighed as they got into the hotel. They needed a few days to rest before they started to drive. They could take the car up across Europe and then cross the Channel to England.

When he got to the reception, the Italian came to his lips, fluent and… free. He asked for their room, and gave the reservation that Q had told him.

 

They headed upstairs soon enough, Q keeping a close eye on James because he looked a touch... off. And the moment the door clicked shut, he sighed, feeling a little more relieved but not at all that much because he had another thing to be worried about now. "Are you okay, James?" he asked quietly.

 

James glanced at him and nodded as he set the bag down. “I feel uneasy…” he said quietly, and sat down on the two single beds... and paused to glare at them. “Should we kick up a fuss?”

 

As expected. Q thought to himself, setting his bag down, too, before laughing at James's expression. "Let's." And so they took the liberty of removing the bedside table between the two beds, before positioning themselves on opposite sides of them. "Ready?" Q asked with a smile.

 

The smile on Q’s face slipped through Bonds gloom and he nodded. “On three… One… two… three!” And they shoved the beds together.

 

Beds connected, Q climbed on top of the sheets and mattresses, pulling James close and planting a kiss on those lips. "I'll check with security; do you want to use the bathroom first?"

 

James hummed and pressed his mouth to Q’s lightly. “Can we just do nothing this evening… Just me and you with a locked door and room service… just relax?” he asked softly, hand rising to cup his face. “They have a bath… you should join me!”

 

"Of course. If that's what you want." Q smiled into the kiss, leaning against James's hand with a silly grin when the man's face seemed to light up at the thought of the hotel having a bath. "Wonderful. Give me a sec." Quickly, he took out his laptop, accessing the CCTV system, and deleting any footage with them on it.

 

James went into the bathroom, to the deep bath, that was set into the floor. It was enormous. It seemed that Eve had paid for a suite, but had two separate beds put in. They had a few days to rest… rest and relax. As the bath poured, he wandered to the window and looked out thoughtfully.

 

Q finished up quickly, double checking, then did it again for the third time, before slapping his laptop shut and went inside the bathroom, spotting James standing by the window, staring through beyond the glass at the darkened scenery outside. He came up to slip his arms around the man. "Wow... this is enormous," he said, eyes looking around and pressing a kiss to the man's spine.

 

James leant against him, and his stance relaxed although he still looked troubled. There was a memory here… It was there… on the edge of his memory and he could not put his finger on what it was. “Q, have I been here?” he asked quietly. “It feels familiar…”

 

Q closed his eyes and let out a breath, the inevitable question had come. Gently, he used his hands to turn James around to face him. "James," he began, looking deep into the man's striking blue eyes, voice slow but firm. "You  _ have  _ been here before... with that brunette woman whom I told you about... Vesper Lynd."

 

He nodded slowly and he seemed to ease a little. So he had been here before… “Ah… I get why it feels familiar,” he said and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Q’s temple. “Come on… let’s get in the bath.”

 

Q didn't know what to expect, but this was... rather surprising and he blinked. "Okay," he said, a smile spreading on his lips as he began to pull James closer and began undressing him, forgetting for a moment in his haze of relief that he hadn’t gotten to the other half of that revelation. 

 

Of course he did not fully get it. He did not remember the love that was lost here and if he did, he would have gotten them both out the hotel as fast as he could. But for now, he raised his arms for Q to take the shirt off.

 

Deep down, Q knew that he was being a selfish little bastard for feeling relieved that James didn't remember the sort of deep love that he had heard everyone talk about the man harboring for Vesper... not yet anyway. Because it must have been deep, deep enough for him to remember fragments of her in his dreams during the night; because she had died a tragic death; and because Q had seen her photo before: she was beautiful.

 

He smiled, folding the shirt hastily away before working on the belt and trousers.

 

"I thought I was pouring you a bath?" He mused as he reached for the cardigan and pushed it off his shoulders.

 

Q shivered, smiling at James. "I thought we were getting a bath together." He leaned in and kissed James on the collar bone.

 

James smiled and leant over the bath to turn the tap. "In you get."

 

Q nodded and got into the tub, the hot water sloshing around him as he settled down. "Come on." He extended his arms outward. "Join me, love."

 

James undid his belt. "Scoot forwards, baby, I'll sit behind you," he said as he dropped his trousers and socks.

 

Q smiled happily and did as was told, watching as James got into the tub as well, the water rising to just inches away from the edge. He leaned back against the man, looking up while reaching for his hands. "Want me to give you a massage?" He had noticed that James seemed to be stiff after that flight across an ocean. Well, technically, the both of them were, but he had been so cuddled up by James that he was sure he was feeling the least of it.

 

The water moved past his skin and James groaned in pleasure. His eyes closed as he settled back against the tub, wrapping his arms around Q. His mind seemed to race, rushing to try and remember what he knew about Venice... Not much. He pushed it down.

 

Q looked at James, the concerns that he was trying to override, even just for a moment, rose back to the surface. "James?" he whispered, reaching up to brush his hands over the man's face. "Are you really alright?"

 

He smiled a lazy, cat like smile and nodded. "I'm fine..." He rumbled quietly.

 

Q rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, unease still thrumming in his veins. "Yes, 'fine' and yet you still haven't answered if you'd want me to give you a massage or not." He pulled James's arms closer, squeezing those hands.

 

"Sorry? Massage?" He was in his own world. "Sure. Why not..."

 

"Okay," Q whispered, leaning in to kiss James on the nose before reaching over to grab for the bottle of oil and settling down again. It was lavender essence, and he poured some of it out, rubbing it between his palms to warm it up, then massaged the essence into the man's skin, working into the muscles.

 

James sighed and tilted his head back at the edge of the bath, letting his eyes fall closed as he did. His breaths began to slow as he relaxed slowly.

 

Q was relieved when James seemed to finally relax back as his fingers continued to work with the tension in the man's body. He edged closer until he was straddling James's lap. "Is the pressure okay?"

 

"Lovely," he said, resting his hands on his hips.

 

"Good," Q murmured, and continued to focus his attention first on the shoulders before trailing down.

 

Melting into the bathtub, James closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax into the water, groaning with pleasure.

 

Q leaned in, trailing small kisses into James's neck, nibbling from time to time, sucking on the beating pulse of a heart that was finally starting to slow. His hands slipped down the back, the knots in the man's muscles there were apparent, and he thought this was probably the least he could do after sixteen hours wrapped up in a manmade cocoon, James Bond edition, on a bloody cargo plane that was both loud and cold.

 

James watched him through heavy, half lifted eyes. Sleepy and warm and content, he watched Q move over him, dark hair damp and sticking.

 

His hand rose to cup his face... And then he remembered  _ her _ face.

 

He jerked back from Q like he had been shocked.

 

Q himself was startled by the sudden withdrawal. Just a minute ago, everything was warm and content, James looked on the verge of falling asleep soon, and now those eyes were wide and seeming as though he had just seen a ghost. 

 

Perhaps he did.

 

"James?" Q asked slowly, blinking a little and placing one hand on the man's cheek, his thumb tracing the cheekbone gently. "What's wrong?"

 

He jerked his head away, and swatted at his hand lightly, as he drew back his legs and stood up.

 

"She died here!" He snarled as he stepped out the tub, practically vibrating with rage. "Didn't she!"

 

Even though the swat was light, Q knew it was, the intensity and vibrating rage behind its force made the touch seared as it burned into his skin. The water sloshed violently when James withdrew his legs, knocking Q back a little, and stood up. The snarl made him close his eyes, internally wincing a little.

 

"Yes." His voice was small but steady, a stark contrast to James's own. It seemed his effort of trying to relax the man had all gone to waste. "She did die in Venice."

 

James rounded on him, angry and furious. "Then why didn't you fucking tell me?" He roared.

 

Q did wince physically this time, the roar banging against his eardrums within the confining space of the bathroom. He hated yelling, the thought suddenly came to him, nothing good ever came out of yelling.

 

"What was I supposed to say?" he shot back, voice sharp, suddenly a little defensive himself. "'Hey, you remember Vesper Lynd, the woman you kept dreaming about? FYI, she died  _ here _ ?!'" He stared at Bond, standing up as well. "How was I supposed to break that news when I know just how much of a sore spot it still is for you?!" This, the outburst of anger, was exactly the sort of reaction he had expected.

 

He flinched as he shot sharp words back and jerked up his boxers and then his shirt over the top. Trousers and shoes.

 

"I’m going out," he snaked and went for the door.

 

Q saw the flinch and immediately subsided. What in the bloody hell was he doing? He grabbed a bathrobe, tied the sash, and hurried out just in time to see James marched toward the door. "James." He didn't reach out, remembering the swat and how people generally didn't like to be touched when they were angry. And the man was furious then. 

 

"I'm sorry. I—..." He what? "I shouldn't have said it like that." The words had sounded a little cruel, and he had turned the subject round back onto the man even though it wasn't his fault that he had forgotten his own past.

 

"You should have said something," snarled Bond. "You should have said anything..." His hands shoved through his hair firmly.

 

"I swore that I would never ever love again..." He growled and went out the room. It slammed as he left.

 

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. The phrase floated limply in his mind as Q stared at the shut door, the sound of it slamming remained echoing. His mind was blank for a long minute before he trudged over to where his laptop was and decided to follow James's trail by erasing all footage with him on it.

 

He had seen Vesper Lynd's photo, all right. Incidentally, she had dark hair and green eyes. Incidentally, she looked beautiful.

 

Incidentally, James Bond had been in love with her. Incidentally, he had said he might be in love with Q, too.

 

The thoughts were numb in his head as he went into autopilot and wiped all traces that James Bond might leave.

 

Bond stormed down into the lobby and out into the streets. He started to wander, arms folded across his chest. His gaze was down as he walked, angry and fast, full of rigid anger and tension.

 

"Stalking," Q muttered to himself as his eyes traced after James's figure as it barreled into the darkness of the evening. He had already changed into proper clothing himself because anything else just made him feel too naked... too vulnerable. But Venice was hardly an old city in spirits, and while unease rolled in his stomach, Q didn't think it was a wise idea to follow James and didn’t erase as much of their leads as possible. Besides, they'd gotten nothing to say to each other right then, anyway, and his presence would only manage to aggravate the man that much more.

 

Had he really done the wrong thing by not telling? He wondered to himself, but per usual, there was no reply; nothing but the caving in darkness.

 

*

 

It was hours before James returned back to the room. He opened the door, and staggered inside, onto his backside in a moment. He was soaked and cold and shivering and he stunk of alcohol, and the metallic hint of blood. 

 

He was pissed. In every sense of the word.

 

Of course, Q was well aware of this even before James got back; he had seen it all through the feed. He had already left the door unlocked and waited until the man came stumbling in and descending on to his back on the floor altogether. Immediately, the smell of alcohol seeped into the air, and Q took in a breath, allowing it to expand his lungs, before approaching slowly, crouching down next to the man. His eyes searched for injury, and thankfully found none.

 

"James," he whispered, only loud enough to be heard. "Change first then sleep."

 

James looked up at him, his blue eyes crowded in grief, pain and confusion, and he looked away. His hands balled into fists. “I… can’t remember how she died…” he slurred and raked his fingers through his wet hair. “I know she did… I know it was here… I just can’t remember the details…”

 

Q felt his throat tightened, grief gnawing at his insides. His hand reached out, petting James's wet hair. "They captured her and took her to an abandoned house by the canals,” he began after a long note of silence. “You chased after them, you took down the bad guys just as the house collapsed into the water." He bent down to place a soft kiss on the cold skin of the man's forehead, his voice soft and breathy like a barely there wisp of vapor. "You could have saved her but she didn't want you to."

 

“Why wouldn’t she want me to… She deserved a chance to live…” his knee came up, and he suddenly looked so small… lost and alone. The stone walls were still there, despite the lack of memory… and they were falling fast.

 

Q was quiet for a long second, taking in the sight of James and how the death of a long gone woman could still hurt him so. But some wounds were never meant to completely heal, that much he knew, and this was one of them. So slowly, carefully, he told James everything. Le Chiffre, the casino, the money brought by Vesper Lynd, her supposed boyfriend that turned out to be nothing more than a lowlife who conned her, and how she sort of betrayed James, betrayed them, in the belief that it would keep James alive. It was a brave and foolish act at the same time, and in her dying moment... maybe she had been so ashamed of herself, of her betrayal of his love and devotion, that she had let herself suffocate to death underwater. She drowned.

 

But the bottom line was this: She had loved him, as much as he had loved her.

 

Bond, for a small wonder, listened without interrupting him to ask the stupid questions that came into his head. Questions like how or why because frankly they were pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

 

Bond curled forwards and leaned against Q, seeking warmth because he could almost feel the water... But he couldn't remember it and that was the part that would drive him insane.

 

His eyes stung, a distinct burning sensation in his nose, and Q swallowed, gathering James into his arms, letting the water, the cold, the grief and pain and frustration seep into his skin and burrow into the flesh, bone, and marrow of his being. "I'm here, James," he whispered, not promising that everything would be all right (who was he to tell?), but still trying his best to soothe the man in his hold as best as he could, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. "I'm here for you."

 

James nodded and pressed his face into his neck. Drunk, he wasn't thinking straight. "How can you love me? After not saving her..." He sniffed.

 

"Idiot," Q scolded softly, his voice a little shaky, patting James a little but tightening his hold all the same. "I don't believe there should be any relation between her and I except for you... Besides, you did save her... You did your best, she wasn't let down... But she just... She had  _ wanted _ to end her life, James. Otherwise, it would have been too easy for you to drag her back up the surface."

 

"I love you both. You should hate me for that, because it puts you in danger… can’t I love anyone without them getting hurt?" he said and a shiver went down his spine

 

"My life has been in danger even before I involved myself with MI6, James," Q replied, smoothing a warm hand along James's back, shivering a little himself at the admission of love... even if it was paralleled to the one the man had with another woman. "How could I hate you for loving me?" He chuckled softly before tugging gently at the man. "Come on. Let's get you out of these clothes first before you catch a cold."

 

James sniffed and nodded slowly. "I’m cold," he complained.

 

Q managed a weak laugh. "Which is why I told you to get changed." He helped the man up on his feet. "Fancy a hot shower?"

 

He nodded. "Then sleep... Have you eaten?" He stood and wobbled dangerously

 

"Maybe not a shower," Q decided after staggering to keep maintaining them on their feet, helping James to stand upright and quickly getting him out of his soaked through clothes, before draping a fluffy warm towel around the other man, toweling him down to dry his body. He handed James a bathrobe and helped him put it on. "Come on, off to bed with you." He avoided the question if he had eaten or not, because he obviously hadn't, and set the man down on top of of the sheets and mattress.

 

He lay down amen opened his arms. "Stay."

 

Q looked down at James for a long moment, his eyes sad but lips smiling all the same. "I wasn't going anywhere, James," he whispered, leaning in and crawling into those strong arms even if they were unsteady and smelled of alcohol and James's mind probably was thinking of another woman at that moment. He wrapped an arm around the man, holding him tightly. "Sleep, James." His voice was soft in the quiet air of the room.

 

James kicked and wiggled until the blanket came loose from under them. He brought it up and over them gently before he wrapped around Q.

 

Q let James do all of those without saying a word and only pressed a kiss to the line of his jaw just as the blanket settled down upon them both, and broke the quietness: "I'm sorry for not telling you it sooner..." he whispered, his voice dropping into space between them like a pebble dropping into a perfectly still pond. "I just... I know it isn't easy for you." He shook his head, closing his eyes.

 

James didn't answer. With one arm looped around Q, his front pressed against Q's back, he was already asleep... Although it soon became clear that this night, sleep and James would not go hand in hand. He tossed and he turned, fighting with the memories and his mind.

 

He woke multiple times, Q woke him up more.

 

In the end, Q decided it was better not to sleep at all as he tried to soothe James through the night. It wasn't until sometime near dawn break, probably a couple of hours before, that the man actually fell into a relatively consistent sleep, more out of exhaustion than anything. 

 

Q mused to himself with idle things, still silently petting James's hair and lulling the man into deep sleep, past the REM phase, before slowly ceasing his movement and gradually withdrawing his hand.

  
He didn't manage fall asleep right then though, and lay there instead just to watch James for a long, long while before drifting away fitfully himself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This serves as a bit of an interlude, but the cut here is necessary, otherwise the chapter would be too long. 
> 
> More is coming soon! 
> 
> ~Azure

It was late, mid morning in fact when, with a grunt, Bond sat up in bed, put a hand to his head and groaned. A string of curses left his lips and as he got up, the room seesawed dangerously. He made it to the loo before bringing up everything he had drunk.

 

It had been a while since he had Martinis. A long time.

 

Q woke up immediately at that, only slightly disorientated before reaching for the phone on the bedside table, reaching room service to ask for a glass of lemonade with hot water, salt instead of sugar, and a few added slices of ginger. The man on the other end sputtered for a couple of frustrating seconds before saying that he'd have that brought up to them soon.

 

With that done, he went inside the bathroom, kneeling down next to James on the floor, and quietly rubbed the man's back to ease the retching.

 

"Martinis on an empty stomach... Not my best idea," he said as he pressed his face against the side of the toilet rim. "I... Found where she died... Stayed there for a bit - still can't remember how... Then I went and got apparently very drunk."

 

Q couldn't help but chuckle weakly. "Yes, not your best idea, drinking habit wise." But that died soon as he listened to the man. He had sort of figured that James had gone to the remnants where Vesper had died by the direction in which the man had been wandering to the previous night, even if there had been no camera near the proximity enough. Even _if_ there had been cameras, Q wouldn't have intrude on that personal moment, despite being the only person to actually be aware of it.

 

"Which is rather apparent," he drawled softly, commenting on the “very drunk” part. "I'm surprised you still remembered your way back in such a state." His hand still carried on its rubbing on James's back.

 

He groaned and retched miserably, but it was dry and he felt exhausted. "I need to get out of Venice..." he murmured, yawning, and looked up at Q. "I know we need rest... But I can't stay in this place."

 

"I know." Q nodded, catching the knock at the door and the customary announcement of the room service. "Rinse your mouth first, James. I'll be right back," he said and pulled himself up from the floor, the joints in his knees creaking a little annoyingly as he padded out to receive the order of the special lemonade he had placed.

 

When he returned, James was doing just that, sitting on the edge of the toilet, rinsing and spitting.

 

Q stirred the glass to reduce the heat of the it as he stood at the doorway to the bathroom, observing James quietly, the only noises in the room was of his spoon clinking against glass and of James's rinsing his mouth. Being in Venice was getting to James too much, that much was obvious, painfully so.

 

He tasted the lemonade for a moment and blinked. Well, at least they had gotten the recipe right; the taste didn't deviate too much from his memory.

 

"Hold you breath if it tastes too weird," he instructed, handing the glass over after deeming it wouldn't scald James's tongue no matter the speed at which he drink it.

 

"It can't be as bad as a reverse martini," he muttered as he took a tentative sip and pulled a face. "Salt..." He drunk down the fluid in several large gulps.

 

Q let out a small laugh. "Yes, salt. And ginger. It should help cleanse your stomach and warm you up." He leaned against the doorway once more and crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching James for a long moment before sighing. "We can eat something down at the restaurant first before leaving," he suggested. "If you feel like it, of course."

 

"Something basic," he stood up and brushed himself down, and then eyed the shower before turning back to Q. "Join me?"

 

Q was suddenly reminded of what had happened just the night before when James had all but shoved him away in the tub for a split second before shoving that away himself and nodded. "Sure," he smiled, uncrossing his arms and approaching the man.

 

James smiled in return. He remembered his reactions, remembered how harsh they had been and wanted, in some small way, to try and make things better. He stripped off himself and then slowly set about stripping Q, undoing one button at a time.

 

Q watched James and his fluid fingers, watched as his shirt opened slowly, gradually. The article of clothing fell down easily to the floor, then his belt, and his trousers and boxer. His eyes were still occupying themselves with tracing along the scars that littered James's torso—small and big, old and new—and he reached out for the man's hand.

 

James caught his hand and raised it to his mouth and kissed his fingers lightly, before stepping close to him.

 

Q kept the smile, maintaining it real enough, as he stepped closer also and leaned against James's board chest. His free arm coming up to hold the man, and he hoped selfishly, just for that instant, that there was no one else on his mind but Q, _William_ , alone.

 

"Are you okay?" James asked quietly, backing them into the shower.

 

Q swallowed before saying, "Of course," and lifting his head up to look at James, his hand that had slipped further down from the man's back reached out and turned on the tap. The warm spray of water hit their skin in a steady stream and soaked his hair into a mop quickly enough as he took off his glasses before placing them blearily onto the rack that had been installed in the wall.

 

"Why don't I believe you?" James asked quietly as he tilted his head back to wet his own hair, then pressed his mouth against Q’s hair.

 

James was but a blur before his eyes, and Q wrapped his arms around the man's neck. "Your loss then," he whispered back with a soft note of playfulness.

 

James’s chuckle was tired but warm as he nodded slowly. "What would make it my gain then?" he purred.

 

The rumbling of that low chuckle vibrated against Q's skin and flesh where they made contact, and Q reached for the shampoo, taking some and rubbing into the man's short blonde hair, massaging his scalp. "Hmm..." he hummed. "Try not to drink consecutive martinis on an empty stomach next time?" He smiled sheepishly. "Eat something down in the restaurant with me and let me drive while you rest? How about that?"

 

"I will eat," he said placating Q with a smile. "And you’re not driving. I am. No arguing."

 

Q huffed, continuing to wash James's hair with an annoyed expression. "Why not? It's just for a while anyway..."

 

"Because I need you to navigate and keep me from getting arrested... And I saw the Aston Martin in the parking lot, I know it's mine."

 

Q narrowed his eyes despite knowing since the start that he would never be able to get away with it... He still tried anyway because, after the previous night, James needed some rest. But when the Aston Martin came up, he couldn't quite hold back the surprised laugh that bubbled up his throat. "Hearing an instinctive call, 007?" he teased.

 

James turned his head and grinned at him. "Yes, actually, I am," he said with a wicked smirk.

 

Sometimes, Q cursed the easy, charismatic charm this man possessed—like right then as he felt a tingling current running up his spine at that devilish mien. "Do try to keep it in one piece then," he warned. "Last time you barely brought back a steering wheel for me to fix."

 

"We’ve got my head to fix before anything else, baby," James hummed but there was a smile on his face and in his voice. "Turn around. I want to wash you..." His voice was a growl, soft and warm.

 

"I know." Q's voice was quiet as he pressed a small kiss against James's skin before commencing to wash the rest of the lather away. It was the one area where he couldn't really fix—anything biologically related. But that growl fell over him like a warm blanket as Q complied easily enough and turned around.

 

James nosed his hair and kissed the back of his hair. His touch was feather light, wispy and gentle as his hands skimmed over him, brushing his hips.

 

Q shivered, the light caresses leaving sparks on his skin in their wake, rousing all possible nerve ends that could still possibly be sluggish even then, and the wash of warm water only added more to the tingling sensation. "Are you washing me or enticing me?" he asked in good humor, turning back to give James an amused look.

 

James washed his back in slow circles as he crowded against him. "Which would you prefer?" he asked with a humming smirk.

 

Q chuckled, sighing as James carried on slowly and with measured pressure. "Either one of them should be fine," was his somewhat cheeky reply. "Whichever appeals to your fancy." He was debating whether it was a good idea to rush James out of here or not. On one hand, the man clearly needed rest, but on the other, he wasn't getting it here in Venice... That, and Q himself didn't want to linger in this city either himself. Vesper Lynd's presence shrouded the place for him and James, and he'd rather distance them from it, out of the petty streak that was a secretly inherent part of him which he had always tried hard to bury, as far as he could.

 

Bond groaned and took his hands, pressing them against the wall hard. “Why don’t you be a good boy and keep your hands here?” he growled and ran a hand down his back, pushing him to arch it out slowly.

 

That was not quite a surprising turn of events, but Q still groaned when James pinned him against the wall, the cool tiles pressing into his flesh in subtle contrast to the warm sprays of water from above. "You really do have a penchant for pinning, don't you?" he teased, letting out a short, sputtered breath when he felt a rough, calloused hand trailing along the sensitive skin of his backside.

 

“Do you like me pinning you?” he growled as he washed him down with warm water, until the suds was off his skin.

 

The sigh that escaped past his lips was a little heavy, opening a pathway to a small, little noise in the back of his throat. "So far, the appropriate answer would be yes," Q replied, licking his lips, the answer coming out much calmer than he felt right then.

 

“Stay still,” he whispered, the promise of pleasure in his voice, rippling through him as he turned the shower off. He kissed down his back slowly, tonguing his spine as he lowered to his knees to kiss each one.

 

"Will try," Q murmured back, the honeyed words washing over him in waves. "But I make no promises with you—" His breath hitched when felt James’s tongue flicking teasingly along his arched spine to accompany the occasional kisses. What he didn't see coming was James's mouth pressing to the back of his knees. It was a strange feeling because no one had ever kissed him there before, and it was both rather ticklish and... delightful at the same time.

 

“Don’t make me put you over my knee,” he came up slowly, pushing the cheeks apart slowly… and he licked over his hole slowly, wondering if anyone had done this for him before. He pulled away, watching him for reaction, before dragging a slow torturous lick from balls to the base of his spine.

 

"That sounds threatening," Q let the words roll off his tongue breathlessly, noticing how those deft hands were parting his cheeks and having only a second or two to wonder what was going on when he felt that slick, hot tongue flick over his entrance. He gasped, clenching up a little. Rimming. He had heard of this before, but the practice of it had been at the far edge of his mind... until this. "James?" His toes curled, hissing when another slow drag pulled from his balls to spine in one swift move. Heat burned from his neck and spread up his face.

 

James grinned into his flesh and started to explore with his mouth, licking slowly. Gentle scrapes of teeth and soft fluttering his tongue. “Is this alright?” he asked softly.

 

Q swallowed thickly, a moan perching and spilling from his lips as he pressed his heated face against the tiled wall. "Yeah..." he breathed, uttering out the word softly. "It's just... a peculiar feeling, is all..."

 

"A good feeling?" he asked.

 

His eyelids fluttered, and James's hot breaths fanning over his sensitized skin didn't help him with keeping his arms in place. "Yes." He nodded. "Peculiar, but good."

 

"Even when I do this?" He pushed his tongue in slowly.

 

The wet, boneless heat rendered him senseless, and Q gasped loudly, his eyes wide and hands clenching. His body jerked a little, muscles clenching up somewhat reflexively.

 

“Steady,” he hummed. “I have you…” he buried his face in his ass, licking and sucking gently. “You’re gorgeous… especially when you’re naked and wet…”

 

Q was well aware that he was mostly bones with not much muscles, all wrapped up in pale skin, but his cheeks still flushed upon hearing those complimentary words, especially when they were muffled by the flesh of his ass. It was a seriously odd situation to be in. He laughed a breathless laugh. "You don't say that with your face buried in someone else's ass, James," he teased, but of course he didn’t know t much of what to say and not to say in sexual encounters like these anyway.

 

His callused hand came up to stroke his cock… once… twice… three times… and then he pulled back, grinning. “Come on, baby… let’s get going,” he rumbled, teasing him… teasing them both.

 

Q cursed under his breath the moment James let go and had the audacity to tease him in that low, rumbling voice. "James Bond, I swear I'm going to strangle you if you don't finish what you started," he growled with short breaths, and, in all honesty, it was a very unrealistic threat, considering that both of them knew it wasn't going to happen. Not in this lifetime anyway.

 

“What would you like me to do?” he asked softly as he stood up, turning the shower back on. They were naked and wet, and they needed to go. “Wait and I will make sure it’s worth your while?” he teased.

 

Q bit his lip. "Worthwhile or not, are you really suggesting we walk around with..." He huffed, turning the temperature down to cold, before letting out a breath. "Let's both cool down then."

 

Bond growled and bent to pick him up, throwing the man over his shoulder. “You are in so much trouble,” he growled and carried Q into the bedroom, and showed him exactly how much trouble he inspired. Twice.

 

"H-Hey! James!" But it was already too late and the man was already carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before proceeding to walk straight out of the bedroom as though he was having another grown man, albeit a little light in weight, on his back.

 

And James Bond wasn't kidding when he said that Q was in "so much trouble."

 

After a light breakfast, James stepped out onto the street, sunglasses over his eyes, as he went too the car, one hand on Q’s back.

 

Q was leering at James for his audacity, but really, he wasn't complaining.

 

They settled into the car easily enough with the included key Moneypenny had given them, him fighting not to wince as he sat down because that would make the man next to him probably a little too smug. He opened his laptop and balanced it in his lap after putting on his seat belt. "Okay, let's go then." He proceeded to wipe the CCTV footage one last time and began searching for the quickest route to get them to France first, then back to England.

 

James settled into the car, and leant over to the glove compartment… It opened, sliding out a weapons tray. Sitting in it, next to the shoulder rig, was the Walther PPK. Leaning over, he picked up the gun.

The green light flicked on and he felt himself grin.

 

Q chuckled at James's feral, predatory grin that sent shivers up his spine. "Biometric gun," he said, but he didn't think these two needed much introduction to one another. It was then that he caught sight of another package from Moneypenny.

 

_"Clothes in the backseat, and other toys in the trunk. There's a debit card inside. Use it well."_

 

“Other toys?” he asked curiously, leaning over to read the note.

 

"No..." Q whispered, an excited grin slowly stretching on his lips. "I'll go check." He sort of had an idea what she had meant by "toys." After the Double-Oh Programme had been disbanded, C had already had all of the agents' weapons, designed by Q or otherwise, moved into storage.

 

But Q had known such a thing would happen, and so had managed to save the prototypes of the pet projects he had been working on too long to let them just take those away. Of course, none of those made it onto the official listing, so there had been no questioning at all. The only other person who knew about this was Moneypenny herself.

 

He got out of the car, and found the familiar black trunk in there just as he had envisioned it to be, and he thought his heart was going to skip a gleeful beat.

 

Bonds hand touched Q's wrist lightly as he got out and followed him around to the back. "Q," his voice held a silky purr. "What is that?"

 

"This, James," he said with a barely concealable hint of pride, "I'm hoping to be our early Christmas." He brought the small, light trunk out and back into the car just for the discretion of it.

 

Q took the liberty to reach up and take off James's sunglasses briefly, opened the trunk, and replaced them with another pair of his own after clicking a button on the side of the frame, looking not too different from one another. "They should help you see other people's biological measurements from their blood pressure, heartbeat, to a possible injured body part on their person," he explained. "When you lock onto a target, especially one from far away, it'll help you have a better aim. This gun is designed to go with that." He picked up another gun from inside of it. "It's lighter, also biometric, with its head infused with a material that the glasses can detect and will enable the installed program to calculate angles and what position you should take..." He was rambling, he knew, but he really couldn't quite help it.

 

He took the gun and turned his head to look at Q. It was a tiny screen in the bottom corner of the glasses, showing the pulse, blood pressure.

 

His fingers touched Q's wrist and the blood pressure went up.

 

"It's nothing fancy, but I think it'll still help us—" Q was still rambling on and on. At least there was that USB drive that he had been working on that would help boost his hacking speed by having it gone through the first simple layers first. But all of that stopped when he felt fingers brushing against his wrist.

 

A little flustered, he turned to look at James. "What is it?" he asked a little nervously. "Is it working? It should be, but if not I'll see if I can tweak it a little and figure out what's going on?"

 

James grinned wider at that. "It’s fantastic," he breathed.

 

It was one of those wicked, leonine sort of grins again, ones that made him feel like this man could devour him whole, and Q's heart picked up that bit more. "Good then," he whispered back before realizing what was going on with a screeching halt. "Hey! You're not supposed to use them to monitor my vital signs!" he protested, heat rushing up his face.

 

James laughed out loud and took them off. "They are amazing," he said and stole a kiss from him, tongue flicking out over slightly swollen lips.

 

Q was internally happy for the rich laugh that seemed to echo throughout the Aston Martin, and breathed into the kiss, nibbling on James's bottom lip as well with a smile. "Glad you like them," he said after the kiss broke. "You can keep them on though, the additional features won't be there unless you turn them on here." He traced a forefinger along a silvery line the ran along the right temple of the glasses. "Otherwise, it's just like a normal pair of sunglasses... though I'm working on trying to make them still a little less bulky..." He hadn't managed that though, with C literally throwing mountains of work at him regarding security issues and everything else from domestic to overseas, he couldn't even find time to actually sleep properly even though that had been easily manageable when work was still 'interesting'.

 

James nodded. "You are a genius," he purred as he turned the keys in the ignition, and the car growled to life. Bond made a satisfied noise.

 

If anything, Q wasn't shy about compliments regarding his skills. So, he only sniffed a little, feeling that rush of pride overwhelming his veins for a moment just as he tampered it down, smiling at the noise James made. "Told you, you're obsessed," he said.

 

"That's news to me!" He said cheerfully as the car lurched. He winced as it stopped, a mere hair’s breadth from crashing into the lamp post.

 

"Of course I'm not used to the engine yet..."

 

Q's eyes widened as they halted to a rocky stop, almost crashing into a lamp post. But somehow, he burst out laughing at James's apparent cheerfulness. "Easy, James," he said.  "Don't wreck it on your first drive."

 

With a considerably lower speed, he eased it out of reverse and started to drive, slowly. It wasn't long before they hit the main road.

 

Q was all business by then, typing away to check on the traffic condition as he navigated them toward the direction they were supposed to be heading to. It was a good thing the windows were all blackened, so it lowered their chances of being caught on one of those side cameras, although he had to hack into the police CCTV system for a brief check through to make sure nothing was going amiss.

 

James spent most of the drive chatting with him, holding his hand for most of the drive. They decided to stop in Verona and then Milan and then cut up through Switzerland and then make for Paris.

 

It was when the road ahead didn't seem too problematic and Q only literally needed to push a key on his keyboard for the light to change and not hinder their process that he finally relax a little. There were things he could have done better back in Indonesia to better protect them and James... he wouldn't dwell on the past anymore, what-ifs and could-haves, but he wouldn't be careless for a second time, not when both of their lives were on the line.

 

He leaned  back against his seat and squeezed James's hand, his eyes leaving the screen for a moment, breaking his eyes from monitoring the traffic cameras to see if anything suspicious was arising and following them or not. But of course, one person could only do so much without a specific target.

 

They were speeding toward Verona, and James seemed to have gotten used to his beloved Aston Martin again. "So..." he began. "The city of Romeo and Juliet, hmm?"

 

"Next logical step on route, Q," he said with a smirk. "I am not much of a fan of tragic romance, more of a Macbeth fan."

 

Q chuckled, rather amused himself. "I should have known, but really, I'm not one for tragic, forbidden love myself." Both of them were more of realists and pragmatists for those sorts of stories. "We should be there soon though." 'Good' traffic condition was speeding up the trip. Even so, it was a good thing that they were finally out of Venice, if only by roughly an hour and a half drive away. They could go to Milan, which was another more than an hour away as well from Verona, but he'd rather James have some rest first more than anything.

 

"I heard they have horse meat specialties there," he said, not quite finding that appealing.

 

Bond wrinkled his nose at that and looked at Q, pulling a face. "I think I will pass on that one. I do need a good meal and more than a good night’s sleep however..."

 

Q laughed. "Good to know." He'd rather stick with normal meat and poultry than going for anything overly exotic any day. "But yes, I'm glad that you've noticed the same." James did need a good meal and proper sleep. The night before had been quite a horrid one for the man after all.

 

"Know what else I have noticed?" He asked and nodded to the rear view mirror. "We have a tail... He has been following for at least the last twenty minutes..."

 

Q nodded. "The black Sedan with at least three passengers inside, possibly four, right?" Yes, he had noticed as well. "They have been following us since we passed Vicenza." He hadn't said anything to make sure that his hunch was right and that it wasn't his paranoia acting up. That, and because there were still civilians around them for the better part of the last ten minutes or so.

 

Q straightened up. "A less crowded choice of route, then?"

 

"You tell me," Bond said and the car began to steadily gather speed, and James began to manoeuvre through the traffic, increasing the speed slowly. He didn't rush. Rushing would lead to chasing which would lead to innocent people losing their lives.

 

Behind them, the car began to increase its speed.

 

Q leered into the wing mirror; that murderous intention back in Indonesia began stewing up again as he adjusted his glasses and typed. "Take a right here," he said, starting to instruct James so they could get to another place quickly before a car chase plus shooting broke out. God knew these bastards were a bunch of trigger happy hitmen.

 

They changed of course quickly, passing blocks of buildings. It didn't seem like they were losing their tail that easily, though, not in traffic like this.

 

Cursing under his breath, he plugged the computer into the car system, telling James to take another left.

 

James did so and there was an explosion of gunfire. He swore softly and swerved as they dodged through the one way system, sweeping past cars.

 

There was an alleyway up ahead on the right that would snugly fit their car, and Q told James to take it. "James,” Q began, holding on tightly just so he wouldn't lose grip of his laptop. "When I tell you to, can you maintain your grip and close your eyes for two seconds?"

 

"You’re asking me to close my eyes whilst driving?" He asked in a growl.

 

"Yes," Q snapped, annoyed by their persistent tail more than anything as he tried to type faster. "Only for two seconds at most. I'll keep your hand steady, don't worry."

 

James threw a filthy glance his way and then jerked his head in a nod. "Tell me when," he breathed.

 

But of course Q had the audacity to smirk mirthlessly upon catching that glance. "Good," he muttered, watching for the alleyway and their pursuer, before narrowing his eyes and closing only one side of it. "Now!" His other hand went over to seize the wheel and keep it steady just as James closed his eyes and a flare of blinding white light flared from the back of the Aston Martin.

 

Spots burst in Q's eyes as he hissed, not seeing a thing in his right eye but turning off the high-power bulbs he had had installed in the tail light all the same the moment he heard the screeching of brakes from behind and a loud crash.

 

"Take a left, James," he continued instructing, switching to look with his left eye now and keeping the other one tightly close. With that, they sped off more or less unscathed.

 

James did so on instinct more than anything else and opened his eyes the moment that he heard the crash. " What happened?" He spared a glance to his companion. "Are you okay?"

 

"Floodlights," Q replied shortly, still typing on his keyboard. "And yeah, I'm fine," he laughed a little, feeling oddly like a pirate. "Just temporary blind on one eye."

 

James glanced at him and nodded. "Let's get lost," and he slammed on the accelerator, getting them out of there as fast as he could.

 

"Good idea." And they did. No more tail followed them since then as they finally made their way closer and closer to Verona as Q, in the meantime, tried opening his right eye and seeing bleary, overly bright images only, and closed it again.

 

James rested his hand on Q's knee gently and squeezed. "You sure you’re okay?" He asked quietly.

 

Q smiled, patting James's hand reassuringly. "Yes. I'll be perfectly fine soon. Don't worry."

 

"It's my job to worry about you, Q... Gives me something to keep going for, keeping you safe..." He said softly.

 

The soft, heartfelt words paused Q as he blinked before nodding and bringing James's hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. "You are keeping me safe, James. There's no doubt about that," he replied, equally as soft. God knew he would've already died somewhere, somehow had it not been for the man. "But it's my job to worry about you and keep you safe, too, love."

 

"You worry about the smart part of keeping both of us safe..." He said softly. "I'll worry about the brawn..."

  
Q remembered the feeling of that metal rod in his hands and let out a huff of bitter laugh. "Good arrangement."


	15. Chapter 15

It didn't take them long from that point to reach Verona afterwards, and with the place being quite the tourist attraction, they blended in nicely enough among the crowd of people.

 

"You know that night in the hotel? With room service and a night in?" James asked as they came into the busier part of town. "Think we could try for that tonight?"

 

Q turned to regard James with a small smile, reaching out for the man's hand. "Of course."

 

James nodded and rubbed his eyes. He felt tired... He couldn't remember the last time that he had felt this tired. "I almost wish I was back in my bloody boat," he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

 

Q chuckled weakly, squeezing James's hand and brushing his thumb across the back of it in a rhythmic motion. "Sorry I wrecked your boat," he said half-jokingly, thinking back on that fateful night.

 

"You didn’t," he said calmly. "It was just one of those things..."

 

"I know, James," Q replied. But those two had only been coming for him, that much was obvious, and he most probably would have already died by then if James hadn't been there at the appropriate time... and saved him. "It used to be less... complicated that way." James's boat had served as the man's retreat, somewhere to tuck himself away from all of the madness of reality, after all. Back then—before all the chasing, the life-threatening chases and fights; before Q and all the troubles that he brought along with him—that boat might have been the only place of peace in a brewing pot of storm, and Q knew that feeling. He understood it all too well.

 

Distantly, Q realized he had never gotten the chance to thank the man properly for that night. "But thank you, James," he said, "for saving me from those two men... even if you didn’t know for sure whether I was entirely trustworthy  or not."

 

The wind from the river blew, and the ancient city with all of its past relics and stone houses surrounded them, beckoning them to come in. They found a hotel easily enough and got themselves a room.

 

The room was small with a vaguely Moroccan feel to it. The room had a double bed and a view from the window.

 

James set his bag down. "This is lovely..." He murmured.

 

"It is." Q looked around, a smile on his lips, as he stepped out of the balcony after leaving his laptop and the black trunk he had brought up with them also down next to James's bag. The city stretched out before them and he could see a little of the famous Verona Arena and the Adige River.

 

James reached for him and pulled him back into his arms. Bond’s heart raced and he held William for a time, letting the adrenaline flood through him, and out of him. He was shaking. "I'm sorry..."

 

The thumping of James's heart was clear and loud against his back as he fell into those warm arm that wrapped around him like soft caresses of vines. And Q waited, one hand holding on while the other stroking along the man's arm, as steady and as reassuring as he could make it, leaning back until he felt the soft rumbling of those shaky words seeping into his flesh and dissolving into his bones. "Whatever for, James?" he whispered, never ceasing the motion of his hand.

 

"If I am who you say I am," and there wasn't the distrust that there had once been, just a hint of tiredness, "then I shouldn’t fall apart every five minutes."

 

Q felt a faint smile crooking the corners of his mouth. "You're not falling apart every five minutes," he whispered, squeezing the man's arm, "and it's especially because of you being who you are that I think you have every right to feel like this." He really couldn't begin to count all of the horrors that the man had seen and done himself. Even though the scarring on his body was a testament to this, it didn't feel like it did the psychologically damaging side of everything justice. Not really. "You're a strong man, James, but that doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. No one can."

 

James didn't say anything, but the feelings were confusing as hell. On the one hand, he felt that needed to be strong, that he always had been... The other side felt... Wrong. "In so confused..."

 

"It happens," Q replied softly, one hand reaching up to caress James's cheek. "You just need to... come to terms with the fact that you don't have to be strong all the time, which can be a difficult thing, but I'm here for you... We'll get through this together."

 

"Had I ever gotten to it?" He asked quietly, looking up at Q with a frown.

 

"I don't know, James..." Q admitted. James Bond had always been this plunging arrow that barreled in and tore at the darkness without much hesitation or sense of self-preservation for himself. Had he ever gotten round to come to that fact? Q couldn't say he had, not when it always seemed like there were fights and chases and distressed situations all over the place for the man to jump into and salvage as much as he could. 

 

There had always been situations that forced 007 to be strong—battered, bruised, broken or otherwise. 

 

"But we can always start now." Q smiled a little at that, a note of hope tinging his tone.

 

Bond sighed and pressed his mouth to Q's forehead lightly. The motion was almost sad as he touched his shoulders lightly and and raised his hand to kiss the fingertips lightly.

 

"I..." The words froze in his throat and he smiled. "Never mind."

 

Q closed his eyes, the feel of James's lips on his skin made his lungs shudder. He looked up at the man with a questioning raise of his brow. "What is it?"

 

James blinked slowly and looked down at him. "I love you... I hope that's okay..."

 

Something inside of him fluttered and a smile unfurled itself on his lips. He knew how valuable those words were, even if not the exact extent of it, and they still surprised him somewhat that James was directing them at him at all. 

 

He cupped the man's cheeks gently. "It's more than okay, James," he replied. "I love you, too."

 

James nodded slowly and smiled somewhat sheepishly. "Good... Good..."

 

Q was highly amused by the expression James was wearing right then, and chuckled. "All right... now, you were saying about staying in and taking advantage of room service?"

 

James relaxed at that and pressed a kiss lightly to his mouth. "Good. What do we need? Let's relax..."

 

"I don't know," he shrugged, leading James closer to bed as they both settled down on top of the sheet. "What are your suggestions?" Honestly? He wasn't used to these sorts of romantic endeavors, so he wouldn't really have a clue.

 

"Well... We wash and we get comfortable... We find something to watch..." He shivered. "Maybe order a pizza? We are in Italy..."

 

Q hummed, smiling at the seemingly normal activities that James had just listed. "Wonderful." He leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on the man's lips. "Let's hope they have something worthwhile on the television." With that, he tugged at James's hands. "Come on. We'll start with the first one on that list." A good warm bath to relax seemed like a good idea after a long day.

 

The bath wasn't as ostentatious as the last one, but it was big enough for the pair of them. James stripped off and poured bubbles in as it the tub began to fill. He sunk in and pulled Q down to sit between his thighs.

 

Q watched James with a soft smile on his face and settled down into the water with the man, picking up the sponge in his hand. "Let's try this again," he whispered, washing along James's neck and trailing down his collar bone.

 

James smirked and let his head fall back to rest on the edge of the tub, eyes closing. It was a ghost of the position he had laid in Venice, without the unease.

 

Q applied good, steady pressure as he gradually washed James, somehow focusing wholly on seeing if he could relax the other man as much as he could or not, the memory of the previous night fluttered across the forefront of his mind. "It's okay, right?" He asked. "The pressure?"

 

"It’s lovely..." He hummed in delight. "Don't stop..."

 

"Not planning on it," Q replied with a sultry smile, his voice low as his hands continued to scrub James's firm torso and abdomen. 

 

James spread his hands and held onto the edge of the bath and let Q was him. With closed eyes, the hacker had a free run of his body.

 

Q let out a soft, pleased sigh when James closed his eyes and splayed his hands over the man's skin in a gentle, massaging motion. The sponge snaked its way to his back before rounding back to James's front and heading down to his hips. Everything was at a slow speed because he wanted the other man to enjoy this after all. They had time, he wanted to believe that. 

 

The groan that came from Bonds's lips was undeniably sexual and his body rolled under the water as desire slid up his spine.

 

Q pretended not to notice any of James's reactions and continued skirting his groin, hands slipping down to begin washing the sensitive inner thighs under water, the smile never fading from his lips.

 

He responded beautifully. He was hard and wanting, despite being half asleep. He shuddered under the touch, legs closing.

 

Q's smile grew a little predatory; he liked what he was seeing and the heat of the water on intensified the sensitivity. He sucked in a breath and gently pushed James's legs up, hands sliding up along the underside of his thighs, still washing but avoiding the essential still for the time being. 

 

James let him, although his head was up and eyes open and he was watching Q work with an intensity that was almost threatening.

 

Q looked back up at James from behind his eyelashes, the curve of his smile turned coy as he shivered under the fire that burnt in that gaze as the fire in the pit of his own stomach coiled. His hands went up to rub at James's knees and slide down to his well-muscled calves. 

 

Again, he groaned deeply and shuddered, creating ripples in the water but he wanted to see where this went.

 

Q lifted one of James's feet up, massaging the ankle gently in small, sensual circles, wondering if this were one of the man's sensitive spots or not. His fingers glided between the gaps of those toes before bringing the big toe into his mouth. 

 

Bond's hands clawed on the edge of the bath tub and his Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed, the only signs from the over controlled agent.

 

Q pressed his thumb into the center of James's foot, rubbing and kneading it gently and letting go of his toe, before giving it a soft kiss.

 

"You’re trying to undo me," he said in a soft voice.

 

Q smiled, hands running up James's leg, nails softly grazing against the man's skin. "What if I am?" he whispered.

 

"Then you should continue before my thoughts continue down the line of getting you under me..."

 

"That wouldn't be too bad now, would it?" Q grinned, his body sliding water as he settled once more back between James's legs and leaned in to capture the man's lips.

 

His hand fisted into his hair and slowly drew his head to one side. Bond devoured the side of his long, slender neck with kisses and bites, several hard enough to bruise, but it was all in sensual worship.

 

Q shivered, toes curling as his hands ran up along James's sides, back arching into the other man's body as those lips kissed and bit into his skin and flesh, ripping gasps and moans from his throat.

 

"I am going to take you apart..." He growled in his ear and licked softly.

 

Q whimpered, the soft and wet heat of James tongue made his insides crawl as he squirmed in the man's lap, a shaky breath slipping from his lips.

 

"You’re a fucking tease..." He growled.

 

"And you aren't?" Q rasped back, moving his legs onto either side of James's own so he would be straddling the man instead of just kneeling between his thighs. The water sloshed as he placed both arms around the man's neck, hands splaying and running down along that spine. Their erections brushed and he hissed.

 

His lips were next to James's ear now, and Q whispered into it with the lowest, most sultry voice he had, "How would you like to do this, love?" It was, after all, James's night of indoor 'indulgence', after all.

 

"You’re on top," was the agent’s growling reply as he rolled hips against Q's. "You tell me how we should do this..." He pushed up to Q, and brought both cocks together in one hand.

 

Q gasped, pursing his lips at the contact and friction, even more so James brought their erections together with his hand, lost in the vast icy blue of those eyes that seemed to encompass him whole. "S-stroke us, James," he whispered, eyelashes fluttering.

 

James drew him in and pressed their lips together as they kissed and he did just that - James started to stroke them together, other arm around him.

 

Q gasped into the kiss as James's hand began to move, the bursts of pleasure straightening his spine before arching it. He leaned their foreheads against one another, hands roaming that torso and teasing the man's nipples.

 

James groaned and kissed his lips softly, nibbling it. "Fuck..." It was intensely, breathtakingly pleasurable.

 

Q let out a shaky breath and swallowed thickly, sliding his hands down to trace meaningless, symmetrical patterns into James's inner thighs.

 

He shivered... And laughed as the touch tickled. "Stop it."

 

Q chuckled, fingers straying farther down to tease James's balls. "Stop what?" he asked, sounding almost out of breath.

 

The laughter melted into a hiss of pleasure as James arched against him. "Don't make me beg..." He all but pleaded.

 

Q blinked in a sort of lazy, slow, indolent way as he captured James lips, the hissing pleasured noise tingling his skin. "I won't." He smiled, guiding both of James's hands up, disliking the loss of pressure around their shafts fleetingly, and placed them on his hips. 

 

Maybe this was a good way to start showing James that he needn't be strong all the time, Q mused distantly to himself.

 

And he began stroking them again, moaning as the friction reinstated itself, as he leaned in and sucked a bruise into James's neck, licking and nibbling and biting somewhat. The slight constriction of the tub actually worked to his vantage as he braced his shins against the sides, holding himself stationary rather well thanks to that, and reached his remaining free hand down to fondle the man's balls once more, rubbing the sensitive, heavy sacs with the pads of his fingers, blunt nails only dipping just enough to heighten the stimulation.

 

The man stiffened a little as Q broke the contact between them... And then he started to tease. James let his head fall back and he was left, whimpering, and thrusting up against the new touch.

 

"Close..." He panted. "Please... Q... Don’t you dare make me beg..."

 

Q shook his head, verging on the edge himself and fighting not to lose his coherency. "I told you—" he gasped back in reply, stroking faster and harder as well, a whimper lodged deep in his throat. "—I won't." He drew James's nipple between his teeth, forefinger circling the man's entrance at the same time. Whatever functioning brain cells he had left were debating whether or not he should push in.

 

The orgasm blind sided him and Bond arched and he came, crying out "William," the word, drawn out.

 

The intimacy of his name, finally sound like home on another soul's tongue made Q shiver as he came too, eyes squeezed shut and head leaning against the man's shoulder, with a sharp cry. 

 

James arms slid around him, and held him close. The water had cooled, but the heat and blood pounded through him, hard.

 

Q tried regulating his breathing, boneless and sated, heart pounding a tattooing pace in his chest as he licked his lips and kissed the love mark he had left on James's shoulder.

 

James raised a lazy hand to touch the tender spot and then arched an eyebrow at Q. "Marking me as yours?" He mused, eyes closing sleepily.

 

Q smiled. "What if I am?" he whispered. "Are you okay with it?"

 

His fingernails dragged up Q's spine. "Possessive?" he purred.

 

The rumbling sound of James's purring made him shiver as he chuckled. "Maybe just a little bit." If his reaction to James’s flirting with the Indonesian woman back at the chemist had been anything to go by. "Come on." He tugged at James's arm. "The water is growing cold, and we still have a few things left in our programme."

 

He tugged Q down and pressed a quick, harsh kiss to his lips. "I am yours," he growled with a smirk.

 

The kiss was full of teeth and sensuality at the same time, and Q, for a moment, felt it fuse into his bones with his gaze boring into icy blue eyes that burnt brighter than anything he had ever experienced before. "Then I don't intend on letting go," he replied, determined and confident, heart fluttering at the words as he grasped on to them.

 

James sat forward and guided Q to lean against him, guiding him to wrap around him. James hands slid down under his arse and he stood, holding Q against him. "So don't."

 

Q didn't hesitate and held on, only letting out a short breath when he felt hands grabbing securely on his bottom. He wasn't afraid that they would fall, not even with the dripping water all around; James wouldn't allow that to happen. 

 

His arms tightened. "Never," he whispered, lips pressing against James's shoulder, eyelashes fluttering as he nuzzled against the man's neck. "Don't let go of me either."

 

James sat down on the bath stall, snatching at the towel.

 

"Never," he promised.

 

Q closed his eyes, the singular promise made him shiver and smile as he swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Good." He nodded. The only thing he feared right then, more than anything else, was James pushing him away for whatever reason that might occur. "Remember that."

 

James said nothing, but wrapped him up in towels.

 

The moment passed, and James brought them back into the bedroom and set Q down onto the bed as he pulled the towels around himself and his skin first so he wouldn't drip water onto the duvet.

 

James went back for a second towel and prowled out to him afterward, scrubbing his hair dry. "Have you had any thoughts regarding food?"

 

Q laughed closing his eyes when James started his scrubbing, more than sure of one thing that his hair would be sticking out at all odd angles by the time the man was through with it. "Hmm..." he hummed, trying to think of something. It was endearing how James was pampering him with small actions like these. "How about something other than pizza... like ravioli maybe? They say those signature dishes should be tried in Italy at least once."

 

"That sounds like a good idea, as long as we don't have to move from here," he said and finished with the hair and frowned at his creation.

 

Q nodded, but the smile on his lips shifted into a disdainful frown, his eyes narrowed as he considered James. "What?" he said, the corners of his lips quirking up despite himself.

 

"You look like someone has dragged you through a hedge backwards... And then through it again for good measure."

 

Q sneered halfheartedly at the man, giving him a light shove. "And I'm sure that someone's you." With that, he turned to reach for the phone on the nightstand to call for room service and handed the television remote over to James. 

 

He ordered them prosciutto and ravioli, but blinked when the woman on the other side asked a question back, and he turned to James. "James," he leaned in and whispered. "They're asking if we want wine or water."

 

"Wine, please," he said as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

 

Q nodded and told the woman just that before thanking her and hanging up, then leaned in closer to James. "Found anything interesting yet?" he asked, fishing out one of of James's clean shirt and gave it a look before putting it on easily enough without a pause before giving the man a sheepish smile.

 

James eyed him and froze as he saw what he was wearing. "That looks..." Amazing. Delicious... "Good... I can't return the sentiment, I would rip your clothes."

 

Honestly, Q didn't expect such a strong reaction from James, and so felt a rush of heat to his cheeks as he adjusted his glasses out of a nervous tic, smiling nevertheless. "Being scrawny has its perks after all it seems," he said, teasing James by lifting up a hand, which was partially covered by the sleeve of the shirt, and waved at him like a beckoning cat.

 

James prowled closer, his eyes dark and glittering. "You are a tease... Be careful, otherwise the food will be cold by the time we get there..."

 

Q smirked just for a bit and placed both arms around James's neck. "I'll behave then," he promised. "But anything interesting on, though?" The question popped back up as he turned toward the television.

 

*

 

They ended up on the bed, Bond propped up with William curled under one arm and the pair of them tucked up together. The food was delicious as was the wine... And he was more than a little amused at the flushed look on his lover’s face.

 

"Wobbling after two large glasses of wine, Q?" he asked as he topped it up.

 

His eyes narrowed as he leered toward James even though it was true that his alcohol tolerance was rather low. "Am not," he replied, a little petulantly so, lips set in a small pout of denial, and finished his drink also.

 

Bond laughed, the sound warm and rich. "If you say so, darling. It’s adorable." He kissed his temple, which was the only place he could kiss without dumping ravioli and white wine over them both.

 

Q huffed, but enjoyed the kiss nonetheless. The fuzzy warmth of alcohol reminded him of that day, not too long ago, back in Indonesia where he had drunk tequila with James before ending in bed with the man for the first time a while later. But thinking back on it, the situations were wholly different, and so were the emotions. 

 

He scooped up some ravioli and directed the spoon to James's mouth. "Open wide unless you want me to poke one of your eyes out," he said jokingly.

 

James did so obediently, sticking his tongue out as he did. "Careful with that thing."

 

"You doubt my aiming skill, Mr. Bond?" He chuckled, but the spoon slid in perfectly into the awaiting mouth, and that made him grin a bit stupidly, pleased that he had managed to accomplish something that was normally so simple and mundane. 

 

He leaned in and kissed the corner of his lover's mouth, careful not to spill anything that was balanced in their laps. The domesticity of it all was... odd, but wonderful at the same time. He hadn't been this contented in a long while, and for a moment there, nothing seemed wrong at all, not in the little bubble they were in, of course.

 

"I doubt anyone looks as pink after two glasses of white as you do, William," he teased and refilled the glass for him. William had done well with the tequila, but he wondered if this would be different.

 

"It's all about the complexion," Q replied, accepting the glass from James. It was a blatant lie, of course, but they both knew that anyway. "Thanks." His lips dipped into the wine from the fragile rim of the glass and sipped at it as he leaned against the other man.

 

James chuckled under his breath. The wine was doing very little, but he was enjoying Q cutting loose.

 

"No more after this glass, you’re rather tipsy already."

 

Q rolled his eyes. "No," he protested. "I find that I'm enjoying this wine." He turned and smiled sheepishly at James, his face burning a little with the rush of wine in his system. "I'll behave myself and won't cause a problem. Promise."

 

"You couldn't cause much of a problem, I promise," he said and scooped his ravioli as it threatened to tip.

 

Q laughed, oddly giddy as it was. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or not." 

 

James set the finished bowls aside and went to the bathroom to fill up a glass of water. He fished the wine glass from his lover’s hand and pressed the water into it instead.

 

"Drink the lot and you can have the wine back."

 

"You sure?" Q asked teasingly but obediently sipped at the water anyway, tucking his legs under him. The cool liquid of it ease down his throat, curling a stark contrast to the warming heat in his stomach. Distantly, he thought he could hear music from out the window. "Do you hear that?" he whispered, perking up. It was classical music, filtering through now that the telly was temporarily on mute. "I think it's a concert from the amphitheater..."

 

James cocked his head to the side and listened. "It is, isn't it?" He mused, set the wine glass down, and extended a hand. "Dance with me?" He asked as he rolled to a crouch on the bed.

 

It reminded Q of the first time they actually danced that Indonesian bar, and it made him smile as he set his glass of water down carefully, not spilling a drop. "Honestly, you have to ask when I feel like I may have two left feet," he whispered with one eyebrow raised but reached for James's hand nevertheless, holding onto it tightly.

 

"Of course," he said and slipped off the bed, standing up and leading Q to their balcony where they could overlook the city, and hear the music. One of Bond’s hands took Q's, the other went around him.

 

Verona shone golden now that the curtain of night had fallen, the illuminating light reflecting the calm flow of the river below.Q could see the ancient Roman amphitheater all lit up for the ongoing concert as expected, the wind carrying the melody over to caress their senses. 

 

He smiled at James, at the hue of bright light catching those striking blue eyes and accentuated their shade that much more definitely, and leaned closer. The hold the man had around him was incredibly reassuring as they began dancing to the tune, with him trying not to step on his lover's feet.

 

James knew the song, although he couldn't know where from. Even so, it resonated through him, vibrating deeply in his being. It was the same with the knowledge on how to dance. He lead the younger man in a slow waltz, only wincing a little when he stepped on his feet.

 

After the third time he had stepped onto James's foot, Q couldn't help but giggle as he bit on his lower lip to stop the sound from bubbling up freely from deep within his throat. "Sorry," he said. "Regretting your decision on asking me to dance, yet?" he asked, trying to clear away the haze of the alcohol to keep up nonetheless as he didn't want to ruin this experience for them.

 

James looked down at him, with such a tender expression. They came to a stop and James raised his fingers to touch his face lightly. "Not in the slightest," he whispered... And slowly kissed him, holding him tight.

 

It was always the sheer tenderness that stopped him. Always. And Q stared into James’s eyes, the light touch of those calloused fingers on his face tingled his skin with a gentle undercurrent of heat. Their lips met, and he closed his eyes, tasting wine and ravioli on his lover, tasting the growing familiarity and thickening love on his tongue as it slipped through his senses like smooth, cooling silk. And he held tightly onto James as well.

 

James slid his hand down his face, tracing over his neck... He felt the pulse leap and race under his touch. Taking Q's hand, he pressed it over his racing heart.

 

If one could distill moments, this would surely make the cut, Q thought to himself as he felt the thumping of James's heart under his hand, as well as the thrumming heat of the hand that was holding his own. He smiled, pressing his palm flat against the man's chest, shivering a little.

 

James grinned wolfishly against his lips and nibbled his jaw lightly.

 

Q let out a sigh and craned his neck to the side to give James more access to his neck, those nimble lips warm and soft against his skin.

 

And that was when hell broke lose.

 

The door exploded inwards, wood shattered and splintered like a mine. The noise was deafening as gunfire filled the night.

 

James dragged Q to the floor, and there was a warm splash of blood as James covered him... And then he was being hauled backward.

 

The butt of a gun hit James’s temple where he had been drilled, and the agent crumpled.

 

James's blood spattered on his face, and his eyes widened, lungs seizing as air curled and froze within them. He sputtered, gripping tightly onto James even as dark shadows were trying to tear the man away from his grasp. 

 

"James!" he shrieked when they gave the man one brutal hit to the temple and knocked him out.

 

How did it come to this? The question swirled in his mind even as they held him down to stop him from thrashing. Could it have somehow been his fault? Had he... had he not done enough to cover their traces? But as always, none of those questions were answered as his world was quickly consumed in darkness as well.

 

The German man, the one that had been hunting them since Bond vanished from the island stalked in. He eyed the room, and the unconscious pair of bodies that were tangled together.

 

He pointed at Q. "Take him," he ordered quietly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go a bit down hill...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for your support! We hope you will like this chapter as much we enjoyed writing it!

Q's ears rang as the bright light pierced into his eyes, making his pupils dilate painfully, and he squeezed them shut once more.

 

"Awake, hm?"

 

He forced himself to squint through the constricting bleariness of his vision; this voice was familiar.

 

"Where's James?" he rasped, mouth dry as a desert as he tried and found that his ankles and wrists had been bound, along with his torso, to a chair that  probably had been bolted to the floor. "And couldn't you have picked a less typical hostage situation?"

 

"Mr Bond is somewhat... occupied, at the moment. He is probably still unconscious in Verona," the man sat in front of him.

 

"I am Eckhart Holderbaum."

 

"I've figured out that much," Q replied with a disdainful mutter even though his mind was racing upon hearing the news that James was not there. "I wasn't wrong when I said you weren't with the actual law enforcement." He smirked, remembering what had happened at the dock.

 

"What do you want with me?" That was one of the main questions, considering the fact that their ultimate target had been James and not him, and now here he was, bound to a chair. There were a few possibilities, none of which were appealing in his mind right then, as his stomach coiled and twisted.

 

"Nothing of significance, dear boy, save for you losing your sanity. When we have finished with you, we will deliver you back to Bond."

 

Suspicions confirmed, Q scoffed. "You intend on breaking him by breaking me?" The images of James so lonely , small and crying flashed, and he closed his eyes briefly. "Utter nonsense. There's none of my sanity for you to take, so don't you even dream about it," he growled.

 

He smiled and it was almost pleasant—the way the injections were—and nodded to his shirt, or rather Bond’s shirt.

 

"Must have been hard being around someone who didn't know who you are."

 

It was the sort of smile that crept a cold hand upon one's spine, but Q kept his expression steady and neutral, even when Holderbaum gestured at his shirt as his eyes slowly trailed down to the article of clothing that was still on him—a little tousled and dirty, but otherwise intact.

 

"Must have been hard on your reputation for not managing to catch two mostly unarmed men from one island to another, then to one different continent altogether," he replied with a sweet smile himself.

 

"Capturing Bond was not my orders," there were others around, a man came and cut Q's shirt free while Holderbaum lit a cigarette.

 

Q didn't flinch even as the cold side of the metal blade of the scissor glided deliberately across his skin, his eyes still locked steadfastly onto Holderbaum despite the dread that was spreading inside his veins at the thought of being entirely exposed before this sod. Even so, he couldn't help but feel angry at the fact that they had cut James's shirt.

 

"What were your orders, then?" he asked.

 

He didn't answer, but instead, stood and slowly circled Q. "You have a smart mouth, boy," he said and flushed the inside of the wrist. "I would hate to have to cut it out so soon," and he stubbed out the cigarette on the tender skin on the inside of his wrist.

 

Q tried hard not to flinch when he felt the man do something to his bound hands behind his back. Which he soon learnt what it was when the sudden, searing heat of the head of the cigarette was stubbed against the sensitive, thin skin of his wrist. He cried out, unaccustomed to pain, his toes curling and body reflexively lurching forward.

 

Oh but this wasn't the first time he had been captured, and Q knew the drill, especially after becoming the head of Q-branch and overseeing quite a handful of hostage rescuing situations himself.

 

"We would both hate that now, wouldn't we?" He let out a breathless laugh when the burn subsided to a dull ache. "You'll go back to hearing monosyllable grunting for replies from your henchmen, and I won't be able to bear not even having you to relieve my boredom."

 

The man jerked Q's head to the side. His mouth pressed to his ear.

 

"We have all the time we need," he said softly. "And if breaking you doesn't kill him, then I will drill his brain personally."

 

Q hissed at the harsh tug, the hot breaths in his ear making him shiver. Somehow, the idea of them trying their hands at breaking him didn't anger him as much as that part about them even talking about trying to drill into James's brain again.

 

He jerked out of that grasp, even if it managed to tear some of his hair out. "In your sick, fucking dream," he snarled. "It's you lowlifes that will get killed in the end."

 

"Apparently so... And yet you are here... And James is... there..." A laptop was placed in front of him and there was a live feed.

 

There James was, still laying on the floor, bleeding slowly. Q's captor chuckled. "Some television?" He gestured to one of his men.

 

"Rip his fingernails out. Record the screams..."

 

His breathing shifted a little the moment he saw James lying there bleeding on the floor. The order wriggled into his ear, and Q managed a weak laugh. "You seem to have quite a penchant for crudeness, Holderbaum."

 

His stomach coiled when one of the other man brought out the necessary torture 'kit'.

 

...

 

Pain. Bond awoke with a grunt and sat up, gasping as the bullet inside him shifted. He slowly got to his feet. There was a phone... Q's phone. He dived for it and answered.

 

"Q?" He asked desperately.

 

At first, there were only screams to answer James's question. High-pitched, bloodcurdling, and breathless.

 

"Q," Bond shouted down the phone.

 

...

 

Holderbaum raised a hand and they stopped pulling out the thumb nail. He pushed the phone to Q's ear.

 

Q took in a sobbing breath, his world blurry before his eyes as hot pain flared from his fingertips where they'd been pulling his nail out. "J-James," he called out. "Don't come." He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. "They'll kill you."

 

“I am coming to get you, Q,” he growled softly. “I am coming to get you, and I am going to kill each one of them.” The anger in his voice was chilling.

 

"No. Don't. Don't. Don't," Q pleaded. He wasn't worth it, not for James to risk his life over. But the phone was already snatched away from him. "Don't come, James!"

 

"Shut up." Someone slapped him right across the face, the force not enough to send his glasses flying, but enough to make his ear ring and stars explode before his eyes.

 

Holderbaum put the phone to his ear. “You can come and get us, but our flight is here, and Q is going on a little trip,” he said, and then hung up the phone. He dropped it, and smashed it under foot before turning back to Q.

 

“Load him onto the plane. Make sure that he can’t make a mess on the carpet… after you finished on his fingers.”

 

Soon enough they were securing his ankles and wrists again, not even caring to avoid the raw place where they had pulled out his nails, and Q bit down on his lip to keep him from crying aloud in pain.

 

…

 

Bond tried to call back, but in the end, got nowhere… so he scrolled through contacts, holding the stomach wound as he found the next number. Moneypenny. He dialled.

 

Moneypenny was working when her phone rang, the caller ID showed the number of the SIM she had prepared for James and Q. She picked it up immediately. "Hello?"

 

“Moneypenny, It’s James,” he was on the verge of panic. “They have Q.”

 

She was instantly alerted and started tracking the phone number. "How long ago was this?"

 

“I’m not sure…” he slid down the wall. “It could be a few hours… I was knocked out… shot too…” He remembered the sounds of the screams. “They’re torturing him. I need to get to him and then I will need a way to get both of us out.”

 

James was in Verona. They couldn't have taken Q too far away. She began checking for the CCTV system—0937, there were a few minutes missing there. She began checking the traffic cameras surrounding the area of the hotel. There was a black car speeding along the roads. "James. I need you to calm down and take care of your wound first before we try anything else, all right? I'm sending help. Stay exactly where you are and find something to slow the bleeding," she instructed. "Is the bullet still inside of you?"

 

James grunted an affirmative. “Yes… the man said something about a plane?” They were going to take his lover, who was terrified of flying, on a plane. “Check local air strips…” he said as he pressed the sheets to his ribs.

 

"I am," Moneypenny said, her eyes scanning the feed. "There are two private airplanes leaving. I'm checking for their destination."

 

It was then that another message arrived. "James. A team is coming right now for you, you need to let them help you, okay? I'll keep you up to date."

 

"He loves me, Moneypenny..." James said quietly. "If anything happens..."

 

For a moment there, Moneypenny was quiet, her face a little grim. She had feared this would happen. "I know, James," she whispered just as her special team of evacuation arrived. "I'll try my best."

 

"Call me when you have news..." he closed the phone and closed his eyes.

 

*

 

While Max Denbigh might have control, it didn't mean he had the loyalty of the agents. Therefore, Moneypenny still managed to prepare a dispatch for Q and James of all the trustworthy men stationed in North Italy. Just in case.

 

And now what she feared the most had happened.

 

Sighing, she continued looking into the flight destination of the two private jets. One was heading to Albania, and was still doing as such, while the other, which was supposedly heading to Romania, was already starting to detour. She continued observing the coordinates, having a certain feeling that this was an open lead that deliberately told them where they were taking Q to... and tracked it to Switzerland.

 

She dialed a number. "How's his status?"

 

_"We've taken out the bullet from his rib and patched him up. He's still under sedation right now."_

 

"Call me when he wakes."

 

*

 

James groaned as he came to, and slowly tried to sit up.

 

"Mr. Bond," an agent spoke up. "Please lie still for a moment. The anesthetic hasn't left your system completely." They had taken him to a safe house nearby just before the authorities arrived.

 

Then, they pressed a phone to his ear. "It's Miss Moneypenny."

 

"James?" Moneypenny called.

 

"Hi, Eve," James slurred. "Don't shoot me."

 

Moneypenny laughed a little. "I won't if you behave and stay there, instead of rushing out while the stitches haven't even gotten the chance to settle," she said. "How are you feeling?" Her tone was much quieter this time round.

 

"Confused, sore, and stoned. Where is Q?"

 

 _Still very much aware_ , Moneypenny thought to herself, not the least bit surprised. "Switzerland..." She trailed off, remembering how she had managed to pull up security footage from the airport enough to see those men carried out a trunk she was sure was large enough to fit Q inside before dumping it in the back of the car. "I've lost the trail not too long since," she sighed heavily, "but I'm working on it right now."

 

"I need a plane ticket there, then... Unless this lot can get me closer?"

 

"They can, and they will," Moneypenny confirmed, glad that James was actively suggesting such an idea. "I've arranged means of transportation for them to take you to Switzerland as soon as the anesthetic leaves your system, and you're given the all clear."

 

"Thank you, Eve," he said quietly. "I won't fail him."

 

"I know." She pursed her lips. "Be careful, James," Moneypenny continued quietly. "It'll mean nothing if you risk your life in the process." And she really hoped he understood what she meant.

 

He didn't say anything, just closed the phone.

 

...

 

Q's torturer opened the trunk and looked down at him "Good morning."

 

He didn't know how long he had been kept inside that trunk, but the prolonged, seemingly infinite darkness made it feel almost like an eternity—enough to ease that pain in his hands that bit and burned into his nerves after having all of his nails removed consecutively.

 

Q's throat felt like he had screamed himself raw; the light from the opened trunk pierced into his vision and penetrated that dark, enclosed space like a knife stabbing into flesh. He stared, lightheaded and disoriented, as they dragged him out.

 

"Welcome to Switzerland," he said and indeed there was a rather distinctive chill in the air and the occasional flake of snow drifted past. Q wasn't dressed enough and Holderbaum glided forward. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He punched him, hard.

 

The surrounding area was vast and open with running grey hills stretching into the distance. And the cold draped down over him like a shroud, ripping a shiver from him as Q couldn't stop his body from responding naturally in a situation such as this. The tips of his abused fingers seared.

 

Where was he in Switzerland?

 

But wherever he was, he could only hope against hope that James would not come. It was nothing short of praying for a miracle to be honest.

 

That punch to the stomach knocked the wind out of him and subsequently woke him from his haze as he lurched forward under the force. "N-not really," he wheezed around a smirk. "I was just thinking that just the sight of your ugly face first thing in the morning certainly ruined the day, and the view itself."

 

He smiled and they turned to a small building. "Get him inside and down stairs. We have a few hours, make him scream a little, record it and send it to those who know him. We need to wrap up this before Bond tracks you down, and I want him to barely recognise you. If he gives you trouble, start cutting off appendages."

 

Q laughed weakly. "What's the rush?" he asked, voice taunting and more confident than he actually felt. "I thought you said we had time!" One yanked him by the hair, while the other shoved him quickly down the flights of stairs that seemed to appear out of nowhere under his feet. Q fought not to trip himself, fall down, and break his own neck. Really, maybe that would have been a good way to end this whole thing, but knowing James Bloody Bond, the man would come, and he wouldn't want James to be lured by a no longer alive person.

 

"Aren't you going to do the dirty work yourself, though, Holderbaum?" His mouth was running before his mind now, to be honest. "Blood makes you queasy?"

 

And one of them punched him in the face.

 

Holderbaum sauntered forward and crouched to get to the height of the blooded hacker. "Say that again," he purred. "I dare you."

 

The smile Q had on his lips was frozen in place for a couple of seconds before dying altogether as he leaned in, undeterred despite the fear and trepidation gnawing at his insides. "Blood makes you queasy, Holderbaum?" he repeated in a mere whisper, face set in a firm challenge. "Or is there another reason why you're telling your henchmen to do the dirty work for you even though you were so sure of it last night?"

A knife flashed and slid across Q's torso from collar bone to belly. It wasn't a deep wound, merely a scratch, but the move was a blur. "Maybe I will make Bond watch when I cut your throat... Maybe I will even let him do it himself... Do you really think that he will recognise your face? A week... two, tops, and you will be a shadow."

 

Q gasped as the tip of the sharp knife dug shallowly into his flesh, drawing a bit of blood only, but the sting of pain was still pain after all. "I think and expect nothing," he spat. "Have you ever considered that it'll be your throat that gets slit in the end though? Wouldn't that make quite a plot twist? One that I actually anticipate."

 

"Here is the thing, though... Several of the so called allies that Moneypenny has called on... Well, they are actually mine and they will be flying Bond here very, very soon."

 

Q stared at Holderbaum and maintained a neutral face. "Here is the thing," he reiterated. "James Bond is a Double-Oh agent, and he's more capable than any of the monosyllable-grunting bastards that you might send, you big headed moron." With that, he tipped his head back suddenly and smashed his forehead against Holderbaum's face, feeling and hearing a distinct crunch in the process, successfully breaking the sod's nose.

 

The man cried out as he staggered back, clutching at his face, his bloody nose. He returned the favour.

 

It hurt as they hit him (of course it did), the concrete floor was cold and grazed badly against his skin. But it was well worth it, he supposed, breaking Holderbaum's nose, hearing that fucker cry out in pain, and seeing him sport a swollen, bloody nose.

 

Deep down, he could only pray now that James would be all right. He would be, Q told himself, zooming in on that thought to override the pain. James would be all right.

  


*

 

James stared down at the snow streaked over the hills and there was a grey landing strip. The plane’s engines drowned on. Bond tightened his bomber jacket and slipped on the sunglasses that Q gave him. He slipped the earpiece into his ear.

 

"Moneypenny?" He asked, not sure who would be at the other end of the coms.

 

 _"Here,"_ Moneypenny replied. _"This is the St. Gallen region of Switzerland,"_ she informed him. _"I've managed to trace the transporting car they used to here before the trail disappeared entirely. We have reasons to believe that they may try to make a break for it by crossing Liechtenstein's border, considering how close this is to it. I'll continue combing through the video footage for more information... Have you gotten all of the equipment?"_

 

"The earpiece and the gun... I’ve had a thought about where we could go afterwards..." He rubbed his eyes, a headache pressing. "The old hunter’s cabin in Skyfall... It used to have everything we would need."

 

 _"I see,"_ she replied, voice quiet but firm. _"It'll need a lot of renovation, though,"_ considering the wreckage your encounter with Silva had left it in. _"So be patient if you're sure about that choice."_ Moneypenny sounded certain, as though they'd be finding Q soon and this would be nothing more than just a brief blunder in the overall plan. And she really hoped that it was the case.

 

"Not the main house... I couldn't live there," he snapped, aware of the tension although he didn't remember the explosion. "In the woods nearby... We can stay there."

 

Moneypenny paused her typing for a moment though, and said, _"You just need to secure Q first."_ She sighed. _"All right. Ready to jump, James?"_

 

"I will get him," he muttered and nodded. "I am ready... You realise that I don't remember how to parachute, yes? Where will the evac team be waiting?"

 

 _"It'll come back to you naturally,"_ Moneypenny deadpanned. _"Really, just ask one of the agents there, they will tell you what you need to know. And the evac team will be waiting nearby on the ground. I'll navigate you both. Don't worry."_

 

"I am about to jump out a plane, land in the middle of nowhere, break Q out and escape without getting shot, with half my memory missing. What could possibly go wrong?" He said dryly as he went to the doorway and signalled it. It opened like the jaws of hell and James went to the edge. "I'm coming, Q..." He muttered... And he fell forwards into oblivion.

 

Moneypenny couldn't stop herself from letting out a surprised sort of laugh at the cheek the man still possessed _even_ , as he described, with half of his memory missing. _"Don't underestimate flesh memory, James,"_ she said, but worries remained, gnawing at her as well. Sending James into this was no different than sending him into a situation where he had a 50 percent chance of dying, and of course that could never sit well with her.

 

She heard his muttered words though and closed her eyes briefly before resuming her monitor over him. _"James,"_ she called after a while. _"Time to pull the parachute."_

 

James let out a whoop of excitement as he fell through the air... And jerked the cord on command. The parachute blew out and he was jerked back.

 

Moneypenny's lips quirked up in a smile as she listened until James was landing securely onto the ground.

 

The plane left quickly, and she was navigating James to the evac's awaiting vehicle, which wasn't too far away, when there was a gunshot that came from its general direction, the loud noise ringing in the air. _"James? What happened? Are you alright?"_

 

"I'm fine," Bond replied calmly. "One less guard to worry about," he muttered as he stole the guard’s weapon, and started to follow the trail in the snow.

 

 _"But James,"_ Moneypenny was worried and stopped just short from calling the prepared evac team. _"I'm supposed to be leading you to that evac team so at least they can help you with the search right on site... Did that person draw his weapon on you?"_ Something was wrong, her instincts whispered to her, something was very wrong. She assembled a team for James because the St. Gallen region was too big to go through alone, but was this turning into something else entirely?

 

Worse, she didn't have any visual on James. Not in the middle of nowhere like this. _"Be careful."_

 

"There’s a bunker..." He said softly and went to the door. He drew the Walther and activated his glasses before slipping inside.

 

Moneypenny could feel heartbeat picking up. Those people had hidden the bunker so well that she had absolutely no information on it. _"Do you still have that small USB flash drive that I sent along with a few other gears he had been working on?"_

 

"Yes, Eve... Why?" He breathed.

 

"Find a computer to stick it in," she replied. "The program will launch itself. If the device is connected to the system of the bunker, then it'll help us hack into its system and we'll see if we can take advantage of it.”

 

"Shall do, Eve..." He whispered.

 

Currently, they had no visual or audio in the bunker, and that both frustrated and scared Moneypenny at the same time because this might as well be the time that James's luck didn't quite hold anymore. There was no way she could ask anyone else for help, and she wasn't stupid enough to believe that what she had been doing here hadn't been spotted, yet. But she wouldn't allow her emotions to get the better of her. No.

 

The only thing she could hope for right then was that James would be able to hold his ground and actually stick that flash drive into any sort of system at all.

 

...

 

"You have a visitor," Holderbaum said brightly as he went sat down in front of Q, turning the tablet screen. On one side was the CCTV image of James. The other side was from a year ago. James and the drill.

 

Q could barely keep his focus enough to hear what was going on, but the moment he saw the footage, either from that moment when the drill was threatening to penetrate into James's brain or the current feed of his lover making entry into the bunker, he couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath and stop himself from whimpering aloud.

 

James Bloody Bond. He never listened. He never listened.

 

Holderbaum smirked. That one worked. The first feed vanished at the press of a button, leaving the full screen screams on loop.

 

The sound of James's looping screams echoed inside the confining walls of that enclosed space, chilling his bones and twisting his guts. The sheer pain that twisted his lover's face etched itself into the forefront of Q's mind, and the mechanical grinding of the drill haunted every fiber inside of him.

 

There was blood when the needle pulled itself out; those blue eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment there, and Q, for all of his somewhat feverish body, couldn't keep from whimpering this time when the process began again and again. It was a miracle that James could still remember as much as he did. It was a miracle that the man still recognized him at all after all of that.

 

"I'll make sure you go to Hell for this, Holderbaum..." he whispered, not quite caring that maybe no one else could hear this but him.

 

"Not quite... Wait until you see what fun we have laid out in the next room..." The feed divided into a second screen of a second room that was clearly in this complex and there was that same chair.

 

Something shuddered deep from inside his marrows, and Q felt like he was going to choke on air if he hadn't already been doing so with his own blood. The thought of James being strapped to that chair again with a drill poised to more or less permanently maim or kill him this time round terrified him.

 

 _It won't come to that,_ he thought to himself in a mere whisper. _It will not come to that._

 

"I look forward to seeing you strapped to that hot seat," Q found himself uttering the words instead.

 

"Not me on that chair... Just James. Do you want to be in the room like Swann was? How can you compare to her or Vesper?"

 

"I won't be so sure about that prospect."

 

It was the psychological game, Q knew the moment Dr. Swann and Vesper came up. It was all too obvious, and he willed himself not to be affected by it, even though it reminded him too much of the depressing thoughts that had fluttered across his mind just a while back about Vesper and everything that night when James had snapped and stormed away so violently in Venice.

 

_Don't think like that._

 

He didn't take the bait and did not answer either of the last two questions.

 

"But maybe you will sit there and watch like Madeleine did," the man put his steel toe cap over Q's foot and pressed. "Will he recognise you?"

 

Q cried out, the pain making his entire body tense up again. Cold air pierced into his lungs and wrapped itself around his naked body. "Does it really matter?" he shot back quietly, exhausted and hurt more than anything. "He won't end up there."

 

"He already has..." whispered the man.

 

...

 

James found and office and plugged the drive in. "Okay Eve. You’re in."

 

Q's program and virus quickly established themselves into the system, stripping away its layers one by one with enough efficiency as its designer. Moneypenny quickly infiltrated the network and shut down everything before wiring it back to her control. It was uncannily easy because everything was already done by the flash drive itself, leaving nothing but a few simple directives back in her hand.

 

The entire bunker's power flickered for a moment, and Holderbaum's tablet froze. Q closed his eyes, keeping his expression as neutral as he could.

 

 _"I'm in,"_ Moneypenny breathed. _"Maintain your position for a while longer, James."_ And she began searching through the video feed until she found what, _who_ , she was looking for while Q's bug began copying every possible files that it could.

 

Her breath hitched a little at the sight and all the blood. _"I found him,"_ she told the man carefully with a measured tone. _"But you cannot leave just yet."_ The loading time said that they would need 10 more minutes before all data could be obtained.

 

"Where is he?" James demanded in a very soft tone.

 

 _"Down in the basement,"_ she replied softly. _"I can lead you there, but he's not alone. Holderbaum, the German you identified from before, is there, along with at least two guards inside, and two more outside the door."_

 

"Can you distract them? An alarm or something?"

 

 _"Working on it. But you need to get yourself in position first before I can set anything off."_ Considering the off chance that James might run into the very guards they wanted to avoid.

 

The flash drive was working at full speed, and finally ( _finally_ ), the five minutes inched toward the finishing mark, leaving her with only access control to the bunker's system and withdrawing all other programs and virus. _"Go, James,"_ she told him, watching as the man snatched and pocketed the small device and left, before starting to direct him down to the basement below to the most opportune place she could find.

 

_"Stay where you are."_

 

And an alarm went off suddenly, opposite from where James was, startling the guards outside and inside, including Holderbaum.

 

"Stay where you are!" Holderbaum screamed at them. "It’s Bond. Find reinforcement."

 

Another alarm tripped, sending all the guards and Holderbaum on high alert. "What did I tell you?" Q whispered with a weak, barely there smirk, even when one tried to beat it out of him. Q spat blood.

 

 _"James,"_ Moneypenny said. _"They're not leaving their station. Can you get to them if I cut the power?"_

 

The agent scowled. "Just get me to him," he snapped as he raised the gun and stepped out of his hiding spot to follow her instructions.

 

The mechanical doors that had helped contained Q's raw screaming for so long swung open, and the power immediately went out afterwards, leaving James amble room and opportunity to take out his targets.

 

James found the room and raised the gun. Three shots, and Holderbaum didn't even get the chance to raise the knife. It dropped away from the ruined flesh of Q's chest.


	17. Chapter 17

The darkness was consuming, and aside from the rattling noises and thrumming energy of these thugs and Holderbaum, it was no different from the claustrophobic trunk they had kept him in after pulling all his nails out and breaking his fingers. Q fought to control his breathing, not knowing just what was about to happen, despite his display of smugness just minutes before in front of the enemies. 

 

Three swift and crisp fired gunshots, and three thuds of bodies dropping dead to the floor later, and there was no other sound save for the roaring of his own blood and the tattooing pace his heart was pounding against his chest. 

 

Q took in a sharp gasp of breath and finally managed a small, "J-James?" into the uncertain void before his eyes.

 

James blinked at the mangled mess of a human being and there was nothing in his gaze. No recognition... Nothing.

 

"Help will be here soon, I need to find someone..." But he wasn't quite sure who this was.

 

Something inside of him froze at the tone of James voice. Somehow, it turned out to hurt more than all of the torture they had put him through, surprisingly enough, and Q didn't know which was worse: death or life. Right then, he was leaning toward the latter. 

 

_ We need to wrap up this before Bond tracks you down and I want him to barely recognise you. _

 

_ How can you compare to her or Vesper? _

 

"Help can't be trusted," he finally managed after calming himself down long enough for logic to shine through. "They have infiltration. Holderbaum said so himself."

 

James scowled and moved into the room... And froze.

 

Q.

 

"William! It's you," and he was next to him, cutting the bonds.

 

Q felt like he couldn't breathe, the lump in his throat was too large, too pulsating for him to draw in enough air. After all of that, and the fucking reason that made him want to cry for real was James Bloody Bond. 

 

He screwed his eyes shut, trying to swallow and doing everything he could to keep him from hyperventilating. James's touches on his skin threatening to rip screams from his throat. 

 

In his haste, the man touched his broken hands, and Q was surprised the physical pain was enough to force a sharp gasp through him then. 

 

It was then that the light turned back on, and he flinched, body seizing up.

 

"Eve," James snapped down the mike. "Where is the extraction team?"

 

The world was hazy; his emotions running wild, but Q didn't lose sight of his surroundings. He couldn't afford to. "No!" he protested as loudly as he could manage right then. "Don't you listen? I told you the evacuation team is compromised!" His throat itched, and he began to cough.

 

"Q," he took the young man's bruised face in gentle hands. "We have no choice. It's a risk we need to take if we are going to get you to a hospital... And I won't ever let you out of my sight."

 

He stared at James, at the promise, the tenderness, and gentle touches, and for a moment there he thought it was going to be fine. But it wasn't. It wasn't going to be fine, and Q closed his eyes, shying away from the man's hands with and wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.

 

He sighed and slipped his hand into Q's. "Eve?" He called.

 

Q whimpered, inching his broken hand away from James. With the restraint released and not being blinded by pain or pressed brutally down onto the floor, he finally saw for all of its entirety the devastation that was his mangled hands with fingers bending at awkward, unnatural angles. He wondered if he'd ever be able to type at the speed he once had anymore, and that only served to hurt him more. They knew he was a hacker, and they had deliberately done this to injure his pride as well.

 

"They brought me here in a car..." Q managed to whisper a little numbly. "Can we use it? If you're so insistent on getting me to a hospital.”

 

"Can you keep close to me?" He asked as he slid his jacket off and put it around Q's shoulders. "Stay close, darling..." He said with a tender smile. He wasn't looking at the injuries, they could catalogue that later.

 

Q's didn't meet James eyes when he muttered, "I can try." Not even as the jacket settled around his shoulders, the word "darling" felt like the actual drill that dug into his eardrums. 

 

He turned away and tapped the microphone. "Eve. Call off the evacuation team, they've been compromised. Does this place have a garage?"

 

_ "Are you sure you want to go to the hospital?" _ Moneypenny asked.  _ "It's public, and they will ask after the injuries." _

 

"Then where would you like me to take him?" Bond snarled. "He needs medical attention- fine! Get me a hotel as close as possible and a way to Skyfall. I need the hunters’ lodge ready and prepared."

 

_ "Already on it." _ Moneypenny didn't miss a beat.  _ "I'll direct you to the garage and the nearest town."  _

 

Q listened to the one-sided conversation with numb attention, the parts in his mind shutting down one by one even as he tried, clumsily and desperately, to burrow into the warm of James's jacket.

 

James turned back to Q. All he wanted to do was wrap him up and keep him safe... But he couldn't from the demons in his own mind. "William..." he said gently. "Stay close to me, okay?" And they started to move.

 

It was the fight for William’s sanity. "Tell me about the next Aston Martin that you’re going to customize," James said suddenly, quiet as they crept along.

 

Q peered at James from behind his fluttering eyelashes the moment he was addressed ever-so-gently, and staggered to his feet when he managed to interpret the meaning of those words. It hurt to move, but he could manage and the wobbling of his legs grew more steady the longer he willed it to keep him upright, and appear at least still capable, useful, to some measure in front of James. 

 

The sudden request startled him, though. Aston Martin. Car. 007. 

 

Oh.

 

Honestly, he didn't know. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to answer this, and while it took him sometime, he managed to get the cogwheels turning again. "Improve the engine," he began. "More horsepower for speed and the ability to carry extra weight without slowing down." His voice was barely above a whisper.

 

"So would you change the body? They could use a better roll cage..." He said quietly.

 

Q was quiet for a moment. Thinking. Breathing. Trying not to feel hurt. "Maybe. But the body needs to be sturdy as well." For bullets. "And they've been working on this nanotech infused coating to help better deflect small to medium projectiles..."

 

They were getting closer to the surface as the cold seeped further into his skin and flesh. Q shivered, breathing in deeply.

 

"What about returning fire?" He grinned savagely. "Please, can I have another jet propelled engine?"

 

Q looked at the expression on James's face. He could still be useful in different ways: draft ideas, design weapons, direct from afar... Yes, that sounded reasonable. He adverted his eyes with a faint, barely there smile. "If you'd like."

 

They rounded the corner, and into a guard. James broke his jaw before kicking him in the groin. He didn't quite have every skill back, but he could still fight dirty.

 

They encountered four more guards, but with Moneypenny's help, they eluded two, and James took down the other two. The rest of them most probably had been trapped in one closed off section or another between the mechanical doors of the bunker. 

 

They managed to get to the car just about when Q was a little out of breath, knees weak under his weight. They,  _ James _ , managed to find the keys, and Q tried to open the door while pointedly not looking at himself in the mirror.

 

James bundled Q in and found a scratchy old blanket to cover him up with. "It’s going to be all right, Q..." he murmured, making soothing sounds as he did up the seatbelt over his body.

 

It wasn't. Q thought to himself, keeping his eyes low and himself as small as possible under that old blanket so that James didn't have to touch him whilst doing up the buckle of the seat belt. It wasn't going to be all right. He just wanted to burrow into the seat and maybe disappear like smoke. 

 

_ "There's a small village called town nearby. I managed to book a hotel," _ Moneypenny said quietly, and they were off.

 

The car raced out, bouncing over snow and ice, and they found the main road.

 

*

 

It wasn't difficult to find Gams from that point on, seeing as that was the only main road all around, and it was a single pathway that led to the village. Q manage to swallowed back many of the pained sounds that escaped from his throat as the car bounced on the road and ended up jostling his body. 

 

Then he remembered something: "Tell Eve to destroy the tracking information of this car in their system," he said quietly.

 

He relayed the message directly to Eve.

 

Q listened, partially pleased deep down, as he tried to find a place to pinpoint his gaze just so he wouldn't have to look at himself. It was a struggle, but he managed so, growing more and more sluggish, just as they arrived at the village not too long afterward. 

 

The sleeting outside was just enough to send people indoors, so there wouldn't be many prying eyes at all. James was there with him, and took him inside too the hotel room. The heating was turned up and there was a large medical kit on the bed—Eve had been busy.

 

"Sit down, William," he said quietly as he locked the door and drew the curtains.

 

Q's toes curled, he looked around the room and finally sat down at the edge of the leather sofa, the scratchy blanket covering his body from making contact with the cushion so his blood wouldn't dirty the material. Well, at least there were more things to stare at than that seemingly ridiculously small car.

 

James knelt in front of him, and had two glasses on his hands. One was filled with a clear liquid. Vodka. The other had ice. "Drink. It'll help for cleaning you up... Then bed..."

 

Q didn't meet James's eyes as he poked his hand out from under the blanket and made for the vodka first, but he couldn't quite hold it in his grip. He whimpered, almost dropping the glass if James hadn't been quick and steadied it.

 

"Easy..." He said and helped Q drain it. "Right. We are going to start with your feet and work up to clean you, okay?"

 

The alcohol was dry and hot in his stomach, and it somewhat nauseated him, but he held the sensation back. "You don't have to," he said suddenly, lips forming the words but not actually feeling them at all. "I can manage. It'll only take a while longer."

 

"Not with your hands in the state that they are in."

 

"I can try." He let out a rushed breath and closed his eyes, clicking his jaws shut, before retreating back farther into the blanket and using it almost like a shield.

 

"Q... Look at me..." he said gently. "I will not hurt you..."

 

His fractured breaths escaped out in splutters. "I know you won't hurt me. I told you as much," he whispered with a hitch. "I just..." Q felt like he was choking up as he shakily directed his gaze back up to James. Was there any oxygen left in the room?

 

"Am I really so disfigured that you couldn't recognize me when you first came in?" There was no reason why he should prolong the question any longer.

 

Bonds heart, just for a moment, broke. "I didn't realise... Q... You’re covered in bruises and blood..." He reached out and touched his face. "I...was full of rage and anger and I didn't even register that it was you..." His teeth gritted. "I just wanted to kill every last one of them..."

 

Q closed his eyes, the first tears in a long while, that wasn't there because of physical pain, fell and rolled down his cheeks. He nodded and whispered, "I understand." Everything was justified, really. 

 

The only problem was that he just couldn't get Holderbaum's voice out of his head. 

 

He sniffed shakily and offered James a small smile. "If you don't mind helping me clean up then, James?" He needed something to focus on to stop his mind from running away with all the chaos that was going on in there, even if just for a moment.

 

"Do you think you could shower? If I came in with you?" He asked quietly. "I want to get you clean so I can start patching you up..." James put a gentle hand on his wrist.

 

"Maybe," Q whispered, staring blankly at James's hand on his wrists, debating whether he should pull away or not. The prospect of a shower sounded as good as it was dreadful, to be honest, because despite the pain, he wanted to rid himself of the grime and blood as well.

 

Suddenly, a thought came to him. "Do you have to break my fingers again to set them right?" he inquired quietly.

 

"Ideally, we need to get them X-Rayed... Some of them look dislocated, which I can pop back in... But we need to get you clean. Can you walk?"

 

"That sounds like it's going to hurt..." Q whispered with a numb quirk of his lips. "Help me?" He reached out an unsteady arm toward James, only a hint of hesitation in his movement.

 

James was at his side and helping him stand.

 

The trip to the bathroom took longer than it normally should because it seemed like his legs had decided to shut down for a bit after that first chance at sitting down. They managed to hobble into the shower stall, and he couldn't be more glad that it was actually separated from the tub itself, saving him the trouble of having to actually climb into it.

 

James came in with him and help him shed his pants—the same ones that he had been on him since Italy and James stripped his clothes off. "Just stand still," he turned the water on luke warm.

 

Torn pants off, Q felt bare and vulnerable... Well, more bare and vulnerable than he already had been, of course. And he bit his lip to stop a sharp cry from coming out of his throat when the water touched his skin and made it seem like the sprays were piercing through it, shrinking a little and hiding his hands away. He looked down at the floor, at the blood and dirt and anything else dirty on his body were diluted into the water and flowed down the drain.

 

James stayed beside him, one hand on the small of his back, keeping him grounded. "William... I need you to tell me... Do we have to be concerned about sexually transmitted diseases?" It had happened before, and Bond needed to know.

 

It took him a few heartbeats to realize that James was asking if they had... Oh... Q shook his head. "No... They were more—" Concerned about making me unrecognizable. "They didn't manage to get to that yet."

 

James sighed with obvious relief and indulged himself in kissing the young man's forehead. "Thank God..." He murmured. "I love you, Q..."

 

Somehow, the first thing that flared in his mind right then was whether James would so readily say he loved him or not if it had been anything otherwise. But he waved that away. That was just his slightly delirious mind talking. He knew full well that James wasn't like that. He wasn't that sort of person.

 

"Thank you," he whispered.

 

James paused. Bad timing. "I mean it... I do..." He said as he got the shampoo down. "Your hair is matted with blood. Just try and relax…” He turned the shower head to his hair and started to comb it through.

 

Q just nodded and said nothing, only wincing a little as James first directed the water over his head and began combing through his hair.

 

They were silent for a while, the air punctuated only by the sound of running water, when he asked, "Is it bad?" he asked and reached up to touch the swipe of knife that Holderbaum had given him after a rather vicious retort which ran from his cheekbone to his jaw. He wasn't a vain person, and he wasn't particularly just asking about that alone, but he really couldn't help it this time.

 

“No…” he said softly. “The cuts will heal well, I think… They are neat, and mostly clean…” he touched the one on his cheek, trying not to touch the bruises. “I doubt that the scars will be visible…”

 

Q nodded. "Okay." He hadn't even taken a look at himself to know, but if that was what James had said, he didn't see any reason to protest, really. Maybe he should thank Holderbaum for enjoying the feel of sharp knife cutting into flesh more than the torture itself, otherwise, it wouldn't have been so clean. 

 

"They were planning on drilling into your head again had you been caught..." he whispered out of the blue.

 

James started to wash his hair. "I would have traded myself for your freedom any day..." he breathed. 

 

"Don't be foolish..." Q muttered, but he did eventually look up and reached out to brush the pads of his fingertips right over where the drill had gone in. "I'm just glad it didn't happen... You were in so much pain before." He took in a breath and lowered his hand, looking away.

 

Bond frowned. "I don't remember... how do you know?"

 

Q bit on his bottom lip. "They showed me the footage from last time when it happened." He swallowed thickly, wrapping his arms around himself as best as he could, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Your screaming was in loop."

 

James touched his arm. "William... I'm here now…”

 

"I know..." he whispered, inhaling deeply and sharply, trying to force something logical to the forefront of his brain because the emotions were draining him too much. "I-It's just a... a psychological response," he stumbled a little, his words somewhat jumbled. "Shock. I-I'll stop hearing your screaming soon." Maybe. Hopefully. "I just... I just..." He lifted up one hand and pressed it against James's chest, right above his heart, if only to focus on the solidity, the warmth, and the sound beating beneath his palm to calm down.

 

"I am right with you," he said softly, and kissed his head. "We will get better."

 

Q didn't reply, feeling his lungs shudder.

 

James rinsed his hair and very carefully began to wash him. He talked and told him exactly what he was doing, a running commentary with silly little anecdotes like, 'Now I am sure that there is skin under here... Ah! There it is!'. Trying to keep him out of his head, not jumping out his skin at every moment. The nails were the worst, but the cuts were shallow.

 

What James did was, for a lack of a better word, ridiculous. But somehow, in some odd way, Q became so in tune, so fascinated by the running anecdotes, the detailed elaborations that his attention didn't wander. Not in the slightest bit, as he stared at James without blinking for as long as he could, listening to the words as they began to bleed and blend into one another. 

 

He only did react (hissing and wincing) when it came the nails' turn to be cleaned. Or his hands in general. They looked so ugly now. Not that they had ever been anything special, but the crooked, swollen angles made everything look bad.

 

James examined them carefully and offered him a quiet smile. "Some good news... These two," the little and the middle finger, "are broken. The rest are dislocated, which means I can pop them back in. Is that okay?"

 

Just the thought of it sent a shiver up his spine. But he was relieved, too, that only two of them were actually broken. "Of course," he whispered. "What about the broken ones?" he asked quietly.

 

"We will strap them up for now and get you to a hospital. It may mean some surgery in the future but our priority is to get back to Britain and the safe house." 

 

Surgery. Scalpels. Blades.

 

Knives.

 

Q nodded and took in a shuddered breath, his eyelashes fluttering. 

 

But James was saying something about a safe house.  _ The _ safe house, and that made him pause for a moment. Then the memory of that conversation, seemingly so faraway and distant now, came back. "Skyfall."

 

James just nodded slowly. "There is a hunting lodge in the woods... We can stay there..."

 

"I see." Q made no other comment on the matter as they finished washing him, or James finished washing him as he stood there, stiff and awkward and more than a little dazed, watching those hands move and the water droplets fall from his eyelashes, hair, and chin. Everything seemed to have wound down to a slow pace, and Q didn't notice the shower being turned off until he realized the seemingly never ending stream of water that sprayed down his skin had ceased.

 

James wrapped him up in a large, fluffy blue towel and guided him back through to the bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed. With careful hands, he began to wrap him up in bandages and dressings. His face got darker and darker until he finished them with the fingers, one by one popping them back into place.

 

"I should have killed them more slowly," he growled as he popped the last finger back into place and bandaged the broken ones. "You need to eat something. Soup?"

 

The towel was comforting, and Q burrowed into it, cocooning himself in the pleasant warmth and fluffiness. Somehow, he thought the color choice was deliberate because blue was one of the colors that had a soothing effects on the nerves. Or so he thought. 

 

He did bite into it a little when James began working on his fingers to stop himself from making too many noises as his digits popped back to where they should be. It hurt, and his body burnt under the pain, but the occasional ice chips and the Vodka that was already in his system help eased it a little, dulling the edges of reality temporarily. 

 

Soon, all of his fingers were bandaged up. He looked like the Invisible Man. 

 

Q supposed he should be glad they hadn't gotten enough time just yet to do much else other than breaking his bones and marring his flesh. 

 

Messing with his mind. 

 

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry. Thank you."

 

"You will feel better with something in you... Tea at the least?" He asked quietly.

 

Tea. Dried leaves taken from the fields; left stewed in hot, boiled water. Aromatic. Warm.

 

It had been a while since he last had an actual cup.

 

"Sure," he said quietly with a nod. "Tea."

 

James offered him a reassuring smile. "Tea is is, then," he said and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you into bed, shall we? I won't leave the room..." He pulled the covers back.

 

Q regarded the pulled back covers and silently edged up further until he settled down and finally got both legs off the floor and onto the bed. The cool fabrics of the sheets and covers made his skin crawl a little.

 

James tucked him in and picked up the phone. He ordered tea and chicken soup to be brought up, then he went to the bathroom, scooping up the earpiece.

 

"Moneypenny..." He called softly.

 

_ "Here, James," _ Moneypenny replied after a few seconds of waiting, a little more static tangling in the words than before due to the picking up wind outside that carried snow with it.

 

He told her what he had done for Q. "Is that alright?"

 

_ "Yes, it's all good," _ she replied.  _ "Just keep an eye on him and listen to everything he says." _ God knew Q sometimes mumbled aloud very quickly and softly to himself whenever he was too focused on a certain important thought.  _ "He's the type that bottles." _ Until the bottles exploded.  _ "I think you already know that." _

 

"Is there anything I can say to encourage him to talk?" James shoved his hands through his hair. "I am no good at people…”

 

_ "Stubbornness and persistence, I suppose.  _ Patience _." _ Moneypenny sighed.  _ "And a lot of prompting. I don't know what other advice to give you, I'm afraid. He's never been one big on talking himself before all this." _

 

There was a knock on the door. "I have to get that. I'll call you if we need you," he said and jerked the earwig out, trotting to the door.

 

Q could see James's back a little as he stood there in the bathroom, partially hidden by the wall, through half-lidded eyes, ones that drooped only out of exhaustion more than the need to sleep. He wondered what the man was talking about and curled as much as he could under the blanket. It was cold.

 

The knock on the door jerked him alert though as his body seized a little, pulling at the injuries underneath the freshly dressed bandages, heart picking up in its pace.

 

"Room service!" the man behind the door called, and James emerged again, hurrying toward the door to get it. 

 

"Be careful," Q said out of the blue, body tensed, waiting only for disaster to happen. The last time they had been inside a hotel room and called for room service, the door had been blasted down mercilessly before people shot and hit James, then dragged him away.

 

Bond smiled and inclined his head a little, drawing the Walther and holding it ready and out of sight, as he opened the door. The tension visibly left his body.

 

Q waited on the bed, gathering the sheets clumsily to him and instinctively inching closer to the headboard, poised to bolt at any second.

 

"Room service, sir?" The man on the other side of the door finally appeared, carrying a tray—one tea and one soup—and Q let out a breath, sagging under the weight of relief when nothing else happened.

 

James thanked the man and glanced at the tray. The request for a straw had been met and he grinned. It would be hard for Q to control the cup with damaged fingers 

 

When James closed the door and brought the tray over, Q couldn't help but scoff a little at the sight of a straw. "Tea with straw..." he muttered, not with rancour. "How lovely."

 

"Better than dumping it down yourself," he replied and shifted the pillow behind William carefully. He held the mug up, holding the straw to his lips.

 

"I suppose so." The presence and proximity of James's body calmed his mind a little as he gingerly rubbed his palms together from under the blanket. "Thank you." He drew the straw between his lips and sucked in, steam catching on his skin, the hot liquid scalding his tongue in a way that he didn't really mind. It was better than freezing cold water anyway. Far better.

 

"No..." He said quietly. "Thank you..." He waited for him to finish. "You've... given me a reason to live again..."

 

Q gave James in incredulous look when the man thanked him before relaxing a little upon hearing the following explanation. He was quiet for a long time before he hesitantly said, "Really?"

 

He nodded. "I would have died in Bali if it wasn't for you."

 

Q nodded. "Anyone who knew you and is kind enough to help would have done the same, James." Which was true. "I just... I just happened to be there at the right place and right time is all."

 

"They tortured you because of me... Because they knew it would hurt me..."

 

"They tortured me because they were sadistic bastards who reveled in and thrived on the pain of others, James," Q told him quietly. "Don't fall into that guilt trap."

 

Bond looked up at him and despite a shaky smile, he was already in that trap. It was obvious.

 

Q sighed and reached out, pressing his palms against James's cheeks. "Nothing's your fault," he said, as resolutely as his scratchy voice could manage right then. "If anything, I provoked them intentionally and they just hit me harder for it." He shrugged and managed a flicker of a smile.

 

James leant forward and pressed his mouth to Q's forehead. "Mouthing off at the bad guys is my job.. "

 

"Role reversal it is, then," Q whispered back. "Holderbaum was mouthing off himself, and I just couldn't help it..."

 

"Will you let me look after you then? Just like you would me?"

 

"There's not a moment, since the start of this journey, in which you haven't looked after me, James," Q assured him with a forlorn smile, one palm rubbing his face as he took in a shaky before it slid down and stopped just right over his mouth and nose. He swallowed thickly.

 

"Talk to me..." He said softly. "What's in your head."

 

Q shook his head hurriedly. "Nothing but foolish thoughts."

 

James picked up the bowl of soup. "Tell me anyway?"

 

"I just... I keep remembering the taunting is all..." he swallowed, looking down at his bandaged hands on top of the blanket.

 

Bond said nothing and scooped up a spoonful of soup, holding it out.

 

Q stared at the James, then down to the spoon. He pursed his lips and counted silently in his mind to recompose himself before opening his mouth up slowly, hesitantly, and taking the spoon in, the taste of chicken spreading on his tongue and running down his twisting stomach.

 

"That’s it..." James hummed as he repeated the motion... And again... And again. "I'll let you sleep in a moment..."

 

Q tried to swallow spoon after spoon of the soup until he tried to shy away from it. The bowl was still two thirds full.

 

James didn't push although he knew that he could have probably gotten another third down his neck. He didn't push because he couldn't push... He understood too well. After Le Chiffre... He hadn't wanted to eat. Setting down the bowl, he picked up the tea again. "Wash it down... Then you should sleep..."

 

Shakily, Q took the first chance of getting away from the soup and sipped at the lukewarm tea, swallowing it down as much as he could before withdrawing as well. He didn't protest sleeping, but he didn't really feel like it at all.

 

Again, James set it down without bullying him. "You should rest, Q," he said quietly. "Get some sleep..." He said as he drew the tray away.

 

Q just silently nodded and settled down against the propped up pillow behind his back that James had set up for him, drained beyond anything he had felt, but sleep, he was sure, wasn't coming.

 

James came and sat beside him... But there was distance there, tension even, if one cared to look. James didn't know how he could help William... "Is there anything I can do?" He asked eventually.

 

"Just stay here with me, James," Q whispered, noticing the subtle distance. "That's all..."

 

"Do you want to be held?"

 

Pause.

 

Q licked his hips, and leaned in against James's shoulder without saying another word, ribcage rattling with the exhale that escaped it.

 

James shifted them both into the bed, only pulling away to take off the shoulder holster, leave the gun well within grabbing distance, pull his shirt off—the dressing was clean on his tummy—and pull William against his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

 

Q rested his head against James’ chest, breathing in the calming scent of the man, his hand reaching down to feel the bandages around James abdomen. He remembered the shot; he remembered the blood; he remembered how brutal those lowlifes had been. He remembered telling James not to come; he remembered the danger; he remembered that bloody chair... the drilling, the screams. 

 

The first sob came quietly, the pain stopping him from curling his fingers. 

 

And anything after that only became just a bit louder than before because he felt like he was suffocating more than anything else. 

 

"James," he whimpered. Then, chanted, over and over and over (and over) again.

 

Bond, in a small miracle, didn't draw away. He didn't try to comfort because there was no comfort for this kind of pain and he knew that. Instead, he stroked Q's hair and tightened his grip around the young man. Letting him know that he was there, wanted and needed.

 

William cried himself into delirium, until he couldn’t differentiate which was real and which wasn't anymore. But James's heat, his scent, the motion of his hand stroking over his hair, the tight grip of those arms around him, his thrumming pulse... they were all soothing in their own ways, easing away the unbearable edges that had been gnawing at his fraying nerve ends. 

 

A part of him wanted to tell James what had happened. What they did to him, what Holderbaum had said. But then, when it all came boiling down to it, he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to say it. He knew James, maybe not awfully well just yet only after barely a week spent actually together, but he knew the man would somehow work it into his guilt, even more so than what was already there, and he didn't want that... If anything, if they had been able to find him, then it must have been something technical on his part. 

 

All the capture, the torture, the bullet in James's stomach, the pain... They were all there probably because of some mistake, mishap on his part. 

 

_ 'NOT SUCH A CLEVER BOY.' _

 

James felt a pain in his chest when Q began to sob. It was a ripping, pulling sensation that he did not recognize... And then he realised what it was.

 

Heartbreak. Seeing his rock so... broken. So destroyed. He wrapped around him and rocked him gently. Back and forth, back and forth.

 

Right then, the only thing that was holding him together, the only person that was keeping him from completely and utterly falling apart was James. The rocking motion reminded him of that night they had spent on the stolen yacht, that night when he first felt for real the vast, overwhelming loneliness that existed in the man, and he had wanted, wished, he could be the one to help with that, to ease it away as much as he could...

 

But Holderbaum was right... or at least he had made a logical point in asking: how could William (William, just William) ever be compared to Vesper or Dr. Swann?

 

He had nothing special but his computer skills, skills that seemed to be failing him already as it was, and such advantages didn't work on living, breathing human beings. Certainly not on James... How stupid.

 

"Talk to me, love," James whispered, and there was pleading in his tone.

 

William gasped softly, trying for air, as his throat kept on shuttering up. He had to say something, anything at all. "I-I'm sorry," he managed, voice a squeak and probably a bit high-pitched, but he couldn't care less right then. "I must have... I must have messed something up... led them to us. I'm sorry..."

 

"What?" James pressed his face into William’s hair and the jigsaw seemed to make sense. "No... God, no. Baby, look at me," he lifted his chin. "This isn't your fault."

 

William did, or tried to, through the flooding of tears and sobs that were squeezing out whatever was left of his waning energy. He hiccuped and shook his head with a small, pathetic whine. "They... they had surveillance... the hotel... I saw you... bleeding." Choke. "Should've stopped the CCTV. Wiped it... Anything..." His words were a scrambled, jumbled mess as he uttered them out, arranging them in an order that he hoped actually made sense.

 

"They won this round," he held his jaw. "They won one round... But they have not beaten us..." His eyes narrowed at Q. "Don’t you let them win."

 

William whimpered. The strong hold of his jaw helped grounding him back down to reality, if only for a little bit. The look on James's face made him want to apologize again, but he stopped himself and shook his head, fat tears spilling from his aching eyes. "No... no... I'm not."  _ I'm trying not to. _ "But it's just this... Many things could have been different if I had been more careful." He swallowed, closing his eyes. "So many things, James."

 

James trailed a thumb lightly over the bruised cheekbone, his touch soft and light and skirting. "There are always things that could have been different... What if we had been stronger or faster or smarter..." His thumb traced over William's trembling lip.

 

"Did you do your best?"

 

That was part of the problem: He didn't know. Had he done his best? Or had he just been sloppy overall the entire time?

 

Q shook his head. "I don't know," he replied breathlessly, clearly inches away from going into a full-fledged distraught response. "And that's no different than saying I didn't."

 

"My point is..." He said softly, "We cannot change what happened..." He whispered. "But we can change what happens tomorrow..." His thumb ran over his lip lightly. "I love you... And I am going to be with you... Every step..."

 

William was shaky, the tremors wracking through his system as he listened and clung on to James with those damaged fingers, wanting very much and attempting as best as he could to focus on the now, and tomorrow, rather than the past. It took him a while, a long while of trying to push down these chaotic thoughts that brought along with them tangled, complicated emotions, and he nodded.

 

"Okay," he whispered wetly. "Okay..."

 

"Sleep, William..." He cooed, stroking his hair lightly. "Sleep... Rest now, gorgeous man..." James wrapped them up in blankets, tangling them together.

 

William managed a soft, tiny snort at the word "gorgeous," but didn’t protest as the warm blankets settled down over them, James pulling him into that tight embrace again. He really didn't want to sleep, to be honest, but between the safety, the warmth, the cooing... He realized that his mind was starting to becoming as much blurry as his vision, heavy eyelids gradually falling shut.

 

"Don't leave me... please..." William thought he had whispered, but the words echoed and grew too faint for him to be sure if that had just been yet another thought flaring too brightly in his mind, or if he had actually said that aloud or not.

 

James pressed his lips to his hair. "Never..." He whispered. “Never ever…”


	18. Chapter 18

Q, then, fell into a fitful sleep full of the cold gleam of knives, pain, screaming, drilling, James. James in many different scenarios—hurting, bleeding, agonizing... dying.

 

Everything fluttered across the forefront of his mind, too loud, too fast, too glaring, like series of never ending images that woke him with a sharp gasp, a scream perching on his swollen tongue, cheeks wet, and hands clutching desperately onto James, and his fingers hurt a lot from where they were clamming down onto the man.

 

"William," James was shaking him. "Wake up! It’s a dream!"

 

Blearily, he saw James in his limited peripheral vision, and let out a breath before reaching up his hand to place it on the man's cheek. Warm, steady, solid. Real.

 

And the ringing stopped.

 

"J-James?" he croaked, the sharp stinging in his fingers chasing the haze of sleep, or nightmare, away.

 

"I’m here..." he whispered. "I'm here... You’re alright. You’re safe..."

 

And Q nodded with a small groan, holding on to that as his body shivered despite the sweat clinging to his skin. He felt cold, and blood was blooming on the bandages at his fingertips where they had pulled out his nails.

 

"Shhh..." Bond’s fingers trailed and ran over his skin lightly, roaming and touching gently.

 

It took a moment, but Q eventually calmed his breathing down enough to at least have the sense to take in his surroundings. At least the light in the room was only partially dimmed and not entirely turned off... He found he had grown a little apprehensive of that after being locked for a couple of hours in a trunk that barely had any room for him to wriggle his toes. They had had the the sense of mind to actually pump oxygen in there to at least circulate the air around. 

 

The aimed for effect had been the claustrophobic fear and panic.

 

Obviously, it had been worse than the well in his school year. 

 

"Sorry I woke you up," he whispered.

 

"You didn't... I hadn't dropped off yet..." He whispered, tugging him down to rest over his beating heart.

 

Q sighed, pressing one ear against James's chest and listening to the strong, steady thumping of his heart. It was calming, he felt his own pulse slowing down to relatively match the pace as well itself. "You should sleep..." he murmured, one hand ghosting over that stretch of bandaged stomach where he knew the bullet wound to be. "Does it still hurt much?" His quiet words dropped into the silent space between them, and he wouldn't be surprised if James hadn't caught the question at all.

 

Normally, he would raise his voice, but right then, Q honestly was too tired to actually care.

 

James shook his head. "Hardly at all... Sleep, baby..." he breathed. " Sleep..."

 

"You sleep, too," he repeated softly, sniffing, as he curled up and took to tracing meaningless patterns into James's skin. The beating of the man's heart gradually became lulling.

 

James didn't sleep—he was far too aware of William, and his breathing, to sleep. His eyes closed and he let himself drift into almost a trance like state.

 

Q just lay there, making his breathing as quiet as possible, making his presence as small as he could. His finger continued ghosting, until it eventually stopped at right where the bullet should most probably be, and the air in his lungs hitched a little. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

 

"It was whole... They said because I moved to protect you that it probably saved my life..." James said quietly. "There... Protecting you saved me..."

 

Cold comfort it was, then. Q decided. "I'm glad," he whispered. He wouldn't forgive himself otherwise.

 

James pulled him against him tightly. "Rest, Q... You need it..."

 

Q sighed, burrowing closer himself. "I can't really sleep right now, James," he admitted quietly. Not directly after that, not when his mind was whirring so loudly, the sound still wriggling awfully close to his eardrums, and images fluttering like flashes before his eyes. Too real, too tangible.

 

James held him close and for a long time, he didn't speak. "After Le Chiffre tortured me... I was a mess. A disaster..." James said quietly. "MI6 wanted to pull me off the case and get me admitted into a psych ward... It was Vesper who saved me. She allowed me to cling to her... She let me talk, let me be silent... She let me sob the whole night into her chest..." James kissed Q's hair. "She was a rock—she betrayed me but I will never forget what she did for me then. Something she said to me... 'Use me... however you need to. Cry and scream and be angry and I will love you. Be silent and I will still care. I am yours to lean on until you can face it again, and I love you unconditionally…’ "

 

Q listened silently. It was a comforting story; they were all soothing words, but somehow, the thought of Vesper soured it for him, and Q knew that it was just that one dark seed inside of him sprouting. 

 

_ How can you ever compare to her or Vesper? _

 

"Wise words," he whispered, swallowing. "Have you recovered most of your memories about her?"

 

James shrugged. "No idea... Not that bothered about her," he said and leant over Q lightly. One hand found Q and gently sat them over Q's heart so he could feel the thump thump thump. James’ hand covered it and nosed his ear.

 

"Use me..." James whispered. "Use me however you need to. Cry and scream and be angry and I will love you. Be silent and I will still care. I am yours to lean on until you can face it again, and I love you unconditionally..." His hand pressed lightly. "You’re still here and so am I... And as long as this keeps beating," he took Q's other hand and pressed it to his own chest, "this beats in time with it."

 

Q stared at his hand in James's own as it lay softly pressed over the man's heart before splaying it out to feel warmth tingling at the cold numbness of his palm and fingers. Somehow, he was sorry that he couldn't be that stable rock for James. Not when he was barely holding himself together like this. 

 

He smiled at James's gesture, though, the warm, rumbling syllables of his words wrapped around him like a soft, pleasant blanket. His throat was tight, and he was crying again. Tears came too easily these days, it seemed, and he tried to blink them away in vain. 

 

"Thank you, James." He pursed his lips, taking in a shuddered breath. "For everything."

 

Leaning down, James kissed his tears away lightly, one at a time, sweet sweet kisses. "Always..." he whispered.

 

Q sniffed, managing a choked laugh as he leaned his forehead against James's chest, inching closer and pushing the voices that haunted the crevices of his mind away. Sometimes, he cursed his photographic memory. "I told you, you have never let anyone down, given the choice," he said quietly, voice muffled against the man's chest.

 

"Just like you never let me down," he replied with a smile.

 

"I'll try my best," Q replied, his smile waning, but the warmth remained at any rate, and he snuggled close, breathing in a lungful of James's scent and allowing the particles to cling to his cells, infusing it into his being. And he closed his eyes.

 

"Rest..." whispered Bond. "I need to call Eve... I know her voice, but I struggle to put a face to it... We need to get safety..." He said softly.

 

"I can talk to her and set up a few things," Q suggested, feeling an urge to at least do something to make himself useful.

 

"You need to heal, Q, and rest..." He said quietly. "We also need to get you antibiotics and checked out..."

 

"I'm fine, James..." Q said. "You've already bandaged me up." He sighed. "What about the bunch of antibiotics we got from the Indonesian chemist?" Then he remembered something. "And my laptop, James?" He looked up at the other man. "My laptop?"

 

James had frozen in the question and he slowly exhaled. "Christ... I left it with the evacuation team..."

 

Oh. Q breathed. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay, James. I have a... I have set self-destruction traps in there already. They'll work." That last part he said more to himself than anything, trying to convince his own swelling doubts. "They'll work."

 

James pressed a mouth open kiss to his jaw. "I know. Here," on the bed side table were the gun, sunglasses, and ear wig. "Your glasses are a dream, by the way," he said as he handed him the earwig. "Give her a call."

 

Q smiled and tried to make it as confident as he could. "Of course." He accepted the earwig from James and leaning closer in the process, one hand gripping the man's own firmly just to feel that his solid anchor was still there. The traps would work. He wouldn't fail on that. He wouldn't.

 

_ Like how you were sure you wouldn't fail hacking into Silva's system? _

 

Q closed his eyes and put the earwig on. "Thanks," he whispered to James then turned on the device. "Eve?"

 

Bond settled into the bed and pulled Q into his arms.

 

"Q," There was relief in her tone. "How are you?"

 

Q sighed and settled against James chest, curling up and hiding into the man's warmth. "I've had better days," he replied with a small smile. "Eve, if the evacuation team had been compromised, you have to be extremely careful," he warned her softly. "They know."

 

"I know," Eve said softly. "Always am. What do you need?" She asked quietly.

 

_ To shoot myself? _ "Uhm..." he hesitated, licking his lips. "What plans do you have for us to go back to England?" Flying again? Or driving? They were already fairly close to France as it was. "And... er... could you find me a laptop as well?"

 

"You will have to drive," Eve said slowly. "Is that okay?"

 

Q relaxed for a bit upon hearing the answer. "Yes, of course." At least that sounded better than risking the chance of being blown up, or shot down, at thirty thousand feet in the air. Not to mention the actual nausea he had developed just by thinking about the prospect. 

 

"Of course it's okay..." he muttered quietly to himself, a little dazed for a couple of seconds there before turning back to James. "We'll be driving," he informed, then turned his attention back to Eve. "You have a car arranged for us already?" They couldn't really use the car they had stolen from Holderbaum for too long anyway.

 

They arranged to get the train for a distance, and a car would be waiting at one of the big towns. Bond pulled Q against his chest and guided his head to rest, hoping to relax the boy.

 

It hurt to curl up, but Q still did it because it was convenient in every way he could possibly imagine with the exception of walking. Besides, the sparks of pain kept him awake, and he'd rather that than falling asleep somewhere somehow—it was the same reason why he kept on poking at his bare nail beds from under the bandages, or subconsciously so, he supposed. 

 

Q lay his head against James's chest, his eyes on the falling snow outside. Even wrapped up under layers, and another borrowed shirt from James with rolled up sleeves, he oddly remained cold, feet freezing. 

 

"What are you thinking?" He asked softly, stroking his hair. "Would you prefer to... The train? We could drive..."

 

"Yes?" Q asked in a daze, his eyelashes fluttering a little just as he ground himself back and rewound the reel in his head to recall the questions James had just asked. "Oh no, the train is fine," he finally replied. "I don't mind." He did, but driving in this weather would be ridiculous, and only the bumping motion of the train alone would be hindering him greatly anyway (or so he thought), and cars did that, too. There was no win-win situation, and he'd prefer to stay here like this a while longer, just so he could remain in James's entire, undivided grasp.

 

"I was..." he swallowed. "I was just thinking that I've read somewhere about how cherry blossom petals fall at five centimeters per second."

 

"Really?" He said, arching an eyebrow. 

 

"If they are falling naturally without any outside influences, then yes, really." His voice was crisp but quiet, whispering, as he pulled his coat tighter around him. A nervous tic. According to Moneypenny, it'd take his fingernails six months to grow back. Eighteen for the toes. 

 

"How about we just stay here today and leave tonight?" Bond touched his hair lightly.

 

Q shook his head at James's suggestion. Switzerland was small, and this place was even smaller. "They'll find us." And goosebumps ran up his arms at the mere thought alone.

 

"I will shoot you myself before I let them touch you," whispered Bond. Was that supposed to be comforting?

 

That brought a small smile to his lips. "That sounds like a good idea," he whispered.

 

He arched an eyebrow and frowned. “Q… I am not going to shoot you,” he said quietly.

 

Q nodded, his hair brushing against James's body. "I know." The man was too nice for that.

 

James pressed his lips to Q's jaw lightly. "I should get you some clothes... Will you be okay on your own?"

 

No. Don't go. Please. "Yeah..." he whispered. "I'll be okay."

 

He nuzzled him lightly. “Stay in bed… You do need more sleep…”

 

Sleep. Sleep. He didn't want sleep. He had already had enough of it. "Just be careful." He squeezed the man slightly before, reluctantly, letting go.

 

James drew back from him slowly and put his shirt on. "When I get back, I’ll come through the window," he said and pulled the holster over his shoulder.

 

Q lay there, watching as James buckled the holster over his shoulder, nervousness gnawing at the inside of his body, threatening to break loose from underneath his skin.  _ Don't go. Don't go, please. _ The words swirled and echoed in his mind. "Okay." He nodded.

 

James hesitated as he looked at Q and then sighed. “Fuck it,” and snatched the phone from the table and called down to the front desk. Eventually, after offering to pay quite a lot, he had someone go to find clothes for Q. “Better?” he asked when done.

 

Q blinked, not quite catching on to what was going on until he heard the exchange, the money deal, and the sound of James hanging up. He stared at the man for a long moment before burrowing under the blanket and nodded hesitantly. "Sorry..." he whispered.

 

"You need me here..." he said softly. "Don't you?"

 

"Of course." He could barely move his fingers as it was. "I'm just sorry for the trouble," Q whispered. "And the money."

 

That made James grin wickedly. “I will give them the card that Eve sent… not my money,” he said, and relaxed back beside him. “I do like your kind of trouble.” 

 

"Prodigal," Q muttered under his breath, nowhere near his usual bite. "Money is still money." He rubbed his feet together from under the blanket. "My problem is usually fussy anyway..."

 

"Aren't I usually your biggest problem?" Bond quipped as he watched him. 

 

"Oh, don't be egocentric," Q shot back, his voice crisp and flippant, with a scoff, giving banter a try. "There are more disasters than just you alone... Although many of them are sometimes the results of your artful work."

 

Bond laughed brightly and relaxed against the pillows. “Artful work? Pray tell, whatever do you mean?” The innocence in his voice was fooling no one.

 

Q felt the beginning of a small smirk forming. "Explosion, helicopter hijacking, crashing a plane, breaking into somewhere you shouldn't be, or just generally being who you are," he shrugged.

 

He arched an eyebrow. “You lot trusted me in helicopters and planes?” 

 

"Please," Q snorted. "You usually, one way or another, got onto them all on your own, fought on them, flew them, and crashed them." He shot James a pointed look. "Not much I can do to stop you now, is there?"

 

James smiled at that. “I believe you told me to get on the train, Q…” his hand found Q’s… and he paused. “Q… can I kiss you?” he asked after a moment.

 

Q smiled faintly at the memory. "A train is different from a plane, Mr. Bond. And the situation called for it..." He trailed off, watching James's grasp on his hand, detecting the hesitation in those eyes, and the hint of rigidity in his shoulder. The question came in a quiet rush, and he was silent himself for a few beats before nodding. "Yes," he breathed.

 

He relaxed, and with a soft smile, James leant in and captured his lips in a soft, silent kiss. His hand came up and touched his cheek, cupping ever so lightly.

 

Q pressed back and responded in kind to the gentle kiss, sighing a little that James still wanted to kiss him but daring not to try anything else, the feeling of inadequacy ruining him from the inside out.

 

“It will get better…” he said softly, looking into those green eyes. Green like… sea weed? Bond wasn’t a romantic. “It is hard now…” he said softly. “But the memories will get easier…”

 

He knew it would get better, Q told himself. He did. It was just a... difficult scenario to imagine, was all. "Well, it can't get worse, anyway," he said, but not entirely sure about that himself.

 

James dipped his head and kissed him slowly, his hands used to balance himself. He licked at Q’s lips, nibbling lightly.

 

Q sighed again at the feeling of James's lips on his own, and settled further back into the pillow, letting the man take the lead and shivering a little at the licking and soft nibbling, the wet heat tingling his flesh.

 

Bond sighed, and groaned. The effect that the kiss had on Bond was obvious, but he pulled away. 

 

But Q caught the man in that feeble grasp of his, holding on as tightly as he could without adding more tiny spots of blood on the bandages at the tips of his fingers, looking at James with something akin to searching desperation in his gaze.

 

His face coloured with worry, almost immediately. " What is it?"

 

"Don't pull away," Q whispered. Should James pull away, it'd only fuel the consuming darkness in his mind.

 

"I could hurt you..." He breathed.

 

Q shook his head with a small smile. "You're the least likely to hurt me right now, James," he reassured softly, his fingers coming up to smooth along the man's short hair.

 

So James slipped under the covers beside him... And started to kiss. He lifted one hand and gently kissed the tip of each finger. He kissed each wound, each bruise... He kissed them all.

 

Q ached, the lump in his throat tight and painful and pulsating, as he watched and felt James's lips on him. He cupped the man's cheeks, trying not to squirm under the intense attention. "It's okay. Y-you don't have to," he whispered shakily, finally managing to push the words past the threshold of his mouth.

 

He ignored Q. He kissed Q's bruised neck, going down to kiss the slices across his chest, the bruising from blows. He left none of them untouched, as if he could kiss the pain away.

 

Q whimpered, shaking a little as he pursed his lips, stirring deep inside, even just for a little bit despite the wretchedness in his head.

 

"Should I stop?" James asked after a short while, when he was kissing down his belly lightly.

 

"I..." Q swallowed, one part wanting to say yes and the other didn't. "The scars... I just feel that there... there's nothing nice about them for you to be kissing them with your lips," he finally managed.

 

"You've kissed mine," he lowered his head and kissed his belly.

 

"That's different," he replied. Fundamentally, maybe they weren't, but to him, just him alone, they were. And there was nothing about for James to be kissing with his lips so.

 

"Why is it different?" He nipped his hip bone.

 

Q let out a sharp breath, but didn't answer the question for a long moment. "It just is to me," he admitted with a sigh, because this was much easier than to come up with a worthwhile explanation in a situation where there wasn't any.

 

"It's still raw... You feel..." James paused. "Violated."

 

_ Violated _ . "Yes," Q whispered. He supposed that was a good way of putting it as any. He hadn't had any control whatsoever over his environment, and they could have raped him at any given moment. And the thought was jarring (terrifying) to quite a degree, considering that he knew... he knew had James came just a bit later, maybe that would have been the actual case, after all. Holderbaum had been insinuating it for a while as it was. That imagined scenario didn't do much to ease his fraying mind.

 

James lay down beside him and took his hand, twisting their fingers together gently. "I do understand..." He said quietly.

 

Q nodded and clung onto James's hand as much as he could. If anyone could understand, he knew it had to be James. The man had gone through more suffering than he had ever done, and was still having a try at life, complete memory or not. 

 

He turned over to face James, the rustling of the bed sheets was loud in his ears but feeling the first sliver of calm ever since the first time he had been brought back nonetheless.He kissed the man's knuckles—jaded and somewhat flattened from all the fights and times it had been broken. "Thank you."

 

"Tell me what Holderbaum said to you?" prompted James quietly.

 

"Many inane, stupid, meaningless things..." Q said, not meeting James's eyes, perhaps trying to convince himself more than anything.

 

"It's bothering you," James nibbled at his jaw.

 

Q let out a shuddering breath, not knowing how to get out of this without sounding like a little foolish. "He told me they were going to strap you to that torture chair with the drills again," he whispered quietly. "They would try to destroy your mind and make me sit there to watch it all and see if you'd still recognize me by the end of it. Then, they planned on slitting your throat." He sighed. "Of course I didn't believe it..."

 

James kissed his forehead lightly. "Yes... Yes you did..." He said softly. "Or we wouldn't be having this conversation..."

 

Q’s eyelashes fluttered; he neither agree or refute that statement. The answer was already too clear. "That's pretty much it..." he lied quietly.

 

James frowned at that and looked at him, arching an eyebrow. When no answers were forthcoming, he kissed the tips of his damaged fingers.

 

Q licked his lips, taking in a calming breath. It was hard for him to say any of this, and Q knew James understood, but he didn't want to lie to the man either. "They said they would make sure when they gave me back to you... you would not be able to recognize me anymore... They said that..." He took in a shaky breath, eyes stinging again. "Maybe you would not recognize me... what was I in comparison to Dr. Swann, or Vesper for that matter?" He closed his eyes, hot tears coming forth again. "I'm sorry." He swiped at his eyes. "I'm sorry."

 

"Shhh..." Bond wiped his eyes gently and kissed the knuckles. "You are here... You are here and you’re a league of your own... It's you I want. How can I prove that?”

 

"I... It's just..." He swallowed, trying to breathe through the lump in his throat. "I know I'm not... I don't look as good as either of them, and I..." Before this, James probably would not have looked twice his way. Before this, he probably would have left with Dr. Swann or someone else... Not him. It couldn't have been him if he hadn't happened to meet James at the right place and time.

 

James lent forward and pressed a kiss to his lips lightly. "You’re the one I'm kissing."

 

Q sniffed greatly, staring at James with wide, watery eyes. He couldn't bring himself to say that none of this could have happened if he hadn't taken that leap and gone to Bali. No, Q didn't regret it, absolutely not, but still, it hurt to think that perhaps someone else could have helped James instead of him. 

 

He lifted up one hand and stroked the other man's cheek. "You're a kind man, James," he whispered, almost dazedly.

 

He shook his head. "A kind man would have kept you safe... Would have not let you suffer," he touched his jaw. "I am a selfish creature."

 

"You have kept me safe, James. You rescued me in spite of danger." He could feel James's hand tracing over the stubble on his jaw, and briefly closed his eyes. "Everything else happened because of my carelessness... You're not selfish at all."

 

"You know we will never ever agree on this..." His laugh was soft, a low, liquid chuckle.

 

That brought a smile to his lips. "You  _ are _ a kind man, James," he reaffirmed once more. "Don't ever doubt that." If anything, the selfish one should be him... Jealous and disoriented over probably two dead women. How awful.

 

He smirked and pressed a kiss to his jaw lightly. "Yes, love," he said in what hoped was a compliant voice.

 

Q hummed a noncommittal noise, letting the word "love" wash over him like a rush of bittersweet honey. "Good," he whispered, letting out a soft breath.

 

"You like hearing it, don't you?" He whispered. He enjoyed saying it.

 

Q felt a tinge of heat spread up his neck. "Yes..." he admitted, the pads of his fingers softly trailing over James's chest. "You must think I'm foolish... keeping those demeaning words in my mind." He was still doing it right then, actually, even after James had said that it wasn't the case.

 

He shook his head. "I would think less if you brushed it all off..." He admitted.

 

Q snuggled closer, slightly hesitant still, but a little more relaxed. "That's good to know." His eyes drooped a little as he leaned against James's warmth.

 

James pressed a kiss to his forehead, and there was a knock at the door. James slid out of bed and went to the door, before opening it cautiously.

 

Tanner stood outside, smiling warmly at James. James stared back, recognition failing.

 

All of the calmness left him the moment he heard the knock as Q sat up and watched, alarmed, James move cautiously to the door. His heart raced, and he edged closer to the end of the bed to have a better view, hands clutching at the blankets. And to say he was startled to see the familiar figure of Tanner standing beyond the threshold would be an understatement. 

 

"T-Tanner!" He took in an awed breath and tried to climb down as quickly as his still wobbly legs allowed, coming to stand beside James. "Good Lord," he breathed. "It really is you."

 

He smiled. "It's really me. Can I come in, James?" Tanner asked, eyeing James carefully. James looked at Q.

 

Q's hand brushed gently at James's. "It's okay, James," he said softly with a reassuring smile. "It's Tanner. He's one of the people who are helping us, along with Eve."

 

"Oh," James warily stepped back but he did not stand down. 

 

Tanner came into the room. "Q... How are you?"

 

Q managed a small smile, telling Tanner the same thing he did Eve, "I've had better days." He turned back to James, taking in the tense posture, and reaching out to hold onto the man's forearm, hoping that it was a calming gesture. Then, he turned back to Tanner once more. "I really didn't expect to see you here."

 

James blinked at Q's touch but seemed to relax a little, fixing Tanner with a glare.

 

Bill shrugged. "I happened to be in the area and thought you could use a few items," the sports bag was set down, Q's laptop sticking out the top.

 

Q squeezed James's arm a little, the uneasiness rolling of the man in wave, and it was awkward, considering that he had been friends with Tanner long before he had even met Q. But Q saw his laptop and his eyes widened. "My laptop..." he breathed, rushing over to pull it entirely out of the bag. It really was his laptop. "How ever did you..." But it was cut off short as he smoothed his hand over lid, littered with stickers still. "Thank you."

 

"I also have warm clothes, antibiotics, a medical kit, ID's and weapons," he said with a smile.

 

Q smiled, the bleakness in his mind seemed to have receded somewhat. "That's wonderful." And his smile brightened a degree as he turned back to look at James.

 

"How did you get it?" James looked suspicious, his face darkening as he looked at Tanner and cogs twisted and turned. James narrowed his eyes dangerously at him.

 

His smile eased, giving way to worries at the reaction the man seemed to be having. "James?" he called quietly, concern and a sliver of fear crawling up his spine like a poisonous, unrelenting vine. How was he going to make James believe that Tanner was on their side?

 

"The evac team had it," Tanner said gently. 

 

James blinked and then looked at Q. "But... You said they were traitors..."

 

Q blinked rapidly, taking in a breath. "I... Holderbaum said that some of them were traitors..." he replied quietly, eyes wandering back down to his bandaged hands in his lap. Had he heard it... wrong, somehow? Tricked?

 

"We found that some of them were working for Spectre," Tanner said slowly, gently because it looked as if Bond was about to go for the gun. "They have been eliminated, and are out of the country... They went into the bunker last night to clear out any more forces..."

 

James fingers went to his bandaged belly.

 

Q sighed in relief, putting his computer down from his lap, as he stood and approached James. "Excuse us for a minute, Tanner," he said, tugging gently at James's elbow so they could quickly slip into the bathroom. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly once they were inside. "Tanner is going to help us, James."

 

"Are you sure?" He asked quietly. The confusion in his gaze was as plain as it was heart breaking. "I don't remember him... At all..." He said quietly.

 

Q let out a soft breath and nodded, leaning against James and putting his arms around the man. "I'm sure," he whispered, looking up to meet those confused blue eyes, his stomach tying in painful knots. "Give it a little time, James... You'll reacquaint yourself with him." There was no promise of James regaining any memory about Bill, but this was the best they could do, and Q knew just how awful it would be to be given hope and have it shattered. His grips on James tightened.

 

Lightly pressing his head against Q's, Bonds sigh was sad to the point of depressed. "I hate it..." He breathed. "It means that I can’t trust anyone..."

 

Q shivered under its force, his ribcage shuddering with pained breaths. "It's difficult to trust in our world," he whispered back. "But like I said, you'll learn to trust him again, like you did with me. Everything takes time, James, don't push yourself too hard..."

 

"I trust your word," he said softly. "You’re a friend... I remember that... Him..." James shrugged. "If you say he is safe then I trust that."

 

"He's always been a little more on the sideline during your missions, James, helping M and everything," Q elaborated. "But he's always been there. He knew you longer than I did, in fact. He, Eve, and Mallory helped me kept your location under wraps once despite orders against it" –  _ Skyfall – _ "and other things as well... Give him a chance is all I ask." His voice was muffled against James's chest.

 

James sighed and nodded slowly. "Okay darling... I will..."

 

Q smiled at the endearment. "Good. I'm glad to hear that." His arms tightened around James once more as he pressed his ear to listen again to the calming thumping of his lover's heart. "You ready to go out again?" he asked quietly.

 

He smiled, warm but tired and nodded. "Lead on.  Let's see what he has to say..."

 

Q let go and looked at James for a long moment before frowning. "And you insist that I sleep," he muttered with a sigh. "Rest more after this, yes?" His hand rested on the doorknob, waiting for a confirmation.

 

"I'll rest when you’re safe," he said simply and arched an eyebrow, daring Q to argue.

 

Q chuckled a little sadly at James's word and the challenging raise of his brow. "If that's the case, and you'll need more rest still to manage the task efficiently, won't you, love?"

 

"Only if you do the same - and I won't give an inch, so you may as well stop trying."

 

Q scowled halfheartedly, something verging on a pout on his lips. "Fine," he muttered, reaching for James's elbow again. "Let's go then." And the door opened, Tanner was still there, patiently waiting for them as he had expected the man to. "Sorry about that," he said casually and cleared his throat, smiling for the slightest bit.

 

"Is everything alright?" Tanner asked

 

"I don't remember you at all," James replied, bluntly. 

Q pursed his lips, not knowing whether a grimace, or a laugh, at such offhandedness would be more appropriate. "Tanner, I think it's best if you reintroduce yourself to James," he suggested neutrally. "We're still working on regaining his memory."

 

"I see," Tanner said and stuck out his hand good naturedly. "I am Bill Tanner, chief of staff at MI6. I am one of the people who think that I have the authority to tell you what to do, which you ignore."

 

Q snorted a laugh, looking at James encouragingly just so the man would take Tanner's offered handshake.

 

James hesitated and stepped forward, shaking his hand slowly.

 

Q smiled, stalking over to pick up his laptop and powered it up, just to see if something had happened to it.

 

James and Tanner talked quietly for a few moments and eventually, James started to relax before Bill announced that he could not stay.

 

Q was scanning his computer as he observed the result with a critical eye before turning over at the news that Tanner couldn't stay. "You're heading back to London first?" he asked.

 

Bill nodded. "That’s the plan," he said and handed Q an envelope. "The tickets... I've put James's passports under his usual fake names and I might have said, Q, that you were his husband," his eyes glittered.

 

Q paused, and for a moment there, he could feel a flash of heating spreading from the nape of his neck. "Good Lord, you took the liberty of marrying our aliases to each other?" he muttered, despite the smile forming on his lips as he accepted the envelope. "Thank you, Bill." He cleared his throat, and opened the envelope, looking through the papers with a stupid, ridiculous warm feeling, when his computer gave a soft  _ ping. _

 

_ "I told you I'd make sure Bond wouldn't be able to recognize you, Q."  _ A voice suddenly said, and everything he was holding dropped to the floor. 

 

In a fraction of a second, something began loading itself inside his laptop, some sort of program that the searching protocols on his computer had triggered, and Q was already scrambling to the window to fling it open. They hadn't even broken into his computer. They only added more programs to it.

 

"GET DOWN!!!" 

 

He barely heard himself screamed as the laptop was flung outside before it exploded in a blinding flash.


	19. Chapter 19

The moment Q reacted, Bond twisted and pushed Tanner to the floor, and then went after Q. He grabbed the hacker and hauled him to the floor with him, using his body as a shield.

 

The windows blew in wards, scattering them in glass.

 

"You alright?" He asked the moment that they had pulled apart.

 

His breathing was the loudest thing Q could hear right then, seconded by the beating of his heart. His arms clung feebly onto James, and the man's question rang inside his ears.

 

"James," he whispered, trying to focus. His right forearm was burning for some reason. On second thought, a part of his right cheek was burning too, the tingling of the flesh promising something that his disoriented brain had yet to register. It was a small heat bomb characterized by a sudden surge in heat as it consume the oxygen around it to fuel the reaction.

 

Q had been standing too close to it at the time right before James pulled him down to shield him away from the remaining blast. Naturally, he had instinctively tried to use his right arm to cover up his face, which had done the job but not the entirety of it. And now the affected skin was breaking and blistering, bleeding sluggishly from the underneath.

 

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

 

Luckily for James, he had been shirtless when the bomb had gone off. If he hadn't have been, then he would more then likely have had his shirt catch fire, and end up with a hole in his back where there shouldn't be.

 

Incidentally, it looked as if he had a bad sunburn on his back, and one shoulder blade was open and blisters formed.

 

"James?" Q called again, his sense of reality slipping back bit by bit as concerns began rising like red flags inside of him. The man had literally taken most of the blast for him, and that couldn't have been good.

 

The moment Tanner was on his feet, he was rushing over and telling these two to get away from the shattered window while carefully using a discarded blue towel he saw to sweep away the fragments of glass on the floor for them, lest they cut into bare flesh.

 

"I'm fine..." He whispered, standing up slowly. "Q... You’re bleeding .."

 

"You don't look fine," Q replied, pushing himself up as well, and blinked. "I am?" He reached up to his right cheek experimentally and hissed somewhat. "It's nothing," he whispered. "Must have been caught in—"

 

Wait.

 

"James." He held onto the man's arm. "Show me your back."

 

James scowled and pivoted, trying to look over his shoulders at it.

 

Q hushed him, stilling his movements and trusting that James would stop on the account that Q's hands were injured enough as they were and he didn't need his lover to hurt them accidentally any more. "Please, tell me you have antibiotic ointment in your kit, Tanner," he said, voice turning critical as he overrode a few things to work with the fact that James had been injured and bleeding before him, again.

 

"It's nothing that a cold shower won’t soothe," he said patiently.

 

"It's blistering, James," Q scolded and turned over to Tanner, who was getting out the medical kit. "I'll cool the burning down for a bit, please wait for us." With that, he rushed James back inside the bathroom. With the snow falling outside, the water was freezing cold, and he had to turn the water a bit below lukewarm just to achieve that right coolness before bringing the shower head down. "Come on, give me your shoulder."

 

"It's really nothing," James hissed as the water splashed him.

 

"'Nothing' my scrawny arse, James," Q muttered, staring at the unbroken blisters as he took in sharp intakes of breath to calm himself down. Why must this man always be so... reckless? And on his behalf as well. He sighed, blinking and pursing his lips.

 

"Scrawny but I am rather fond of it," James muttered as Tanner approached, looking rather too calm.

 

James looked up at him. "Holderbaum's body... Did you find it when our people went in?" Tanner looked between Q and James, shook his head and sighed.

 

"No."

 

His grip on the shower head nearly faltered, but Q stopped himself just in time, staring blankly at Tanner. "I beg your pardon?" His voice was quiet, small, trepidation curling in the pit of his stomach like a poisonous serpent. "How could you _not_ find it?" He asked, trying to tame his voice down so at least it sounded as near neutral as he could, and not verging on the edge of mild hysteria. "He was shot in the head... wasn't he?"

 

"Chest," James grunted. "I didn't check for a pulse."

 

"Oh..." Q swallowed, his stomach twisting, and the wounds on his body stung, while that newest one on his face seared. He noticed only just in time that his hand was spraying the water in an off direction. "We'll catch him," he said resolutely, more attempting to calm himself than anything, as he readjusted the aim of the rays of water. "We will."

 

Bond shivered and stepped out of the stream of water. "We will find him, Q... And he is never, ever going to touch you again..."

 

Q peered up at James and managed a small smile before nodding, reaching up to softly touch at his damaged cheek. "Come on," he breathed, reaching out for James's hand. "We need to treat your shoulder."

 

"Your arm too..." He said softly.

 

Q made a noncommittal noise in his throat, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower, not even paying attention to Tanner's presence. The medical kit had been laid out on the bed sheet. Snow flakes were falling in through the blown off window, and Q vaguely assumed that Tanner had dealt with the hotel keeper.

 

"We need to hurry," he murmured. "We can't stay here much longer."

 

Tanner nodded. "Your train is in two hours—all the other details are in the envelope."

 

"Thank you, Tanner," Q whispered, picking up a gauze and starting to pat the blistered burn on James's shoulder dry with a slightly shaky hand, before picking up the antibiotic ointment and spreading it out carefully.

 

Tanner left then then, because there was nothing else that he could do. James waited until the door was closed and twisted, pulling Q into his arms. "Let me look at you," he said, lifting his chin, to examine the burn.

 

Q shivered, cold and uneasiness swelling, as he fell into James's arms effortlessly enough. "I'm fine, James," he whispered, wanting to turn his face away.

 

"So am I, but you’re really not," he said gently. "Not physically... Not mentally..." He carefully washed the burn.

 

Q pursed his lips, hissing a little because of the burn. There was no point in denying that anyway, what James had just said, and he sighed. "Is my fraying mind that detectable?" he asked with a crooked smile.

 

"You’re not fraying," he said softly. " You’re doing fine..."

 

"Generous assessment," Q replied, swallowing. He placed his hands on James's waist and leaned his forehead against him. After a few breaths, he willed himself to calm down enough and said, "Let's finish this so we can leave." He sincerely couldn't bear staying in a room where his laptop had almost exploded into his face and hurt James in the process any longer.

 

James nodded. Once they were both clean and dressed, wounds covered and winter clothes on, they made their way out the side entrance of the hotel, hand in hand, avoiding the police and everyone else that was gathered around.

 

Q stuck close to James, the breaths escaping from his nose and mouth immediately turning into vapor the moment they left him. The station was within walking distance, thank God, and after a bit of waiting, they were already boarding the train.

 

James stuck close to him and ushered him in to sit on the train. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Q's temple and turned his hand to push his fingers through Q's.

 

"Careful with your shoulder," Q whispered, enjoying the kiss all the same and the way how their fingers laced together, "husband mine." And Q smiled sheepishly up at James.

 

"Have you ever been married before? Or been close?" Bond asked curiously.

 

Q shook his head. "Never had anything serious." He snorted a soft laugh. "Apparently, I don't make people feel too... homey."

 

He arched an eyebrow. "Then you need to meet some new people, dear," and with that, the train pulled out of the station.

 

Q chuckled. "Rest assured, I've never met any one of them again. Too many complaints about the ungodly hours." He shrugged. "Not to mention that when things get a little busy at work I tended to be a little... absentminded."

 

"Drooling over your favourite agent?" James teased playfully as he leant back in the chair.

 

"No." Q leered halfheartedly at James, a smile curling his lips. "Cursing at him for being a reckless idiot, more like."

 

James chuckled and lifted his hand, pressing a kiss to it. "I do love you, you know..." He said after a quiet moment.

 

Something softened inside of him, and Q smiled, leaning into James. "I know," he whispered. Otherwise, things would have turned out very differently by now. "I love you, too."

 

James nodded slowly and offered Q a small, almost shy smile. As if he wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

 

Q did though as he observed it and committed it to memory, before leaning in and stealing said smile away, pressing their lips together.

 

His eyes widened a little, in almost surprise, at the way Q kissed him. His hand came up and cupped his face.

 

Q sighed, his thumb tracing the line of James's cheekbone before the kiss broke. "Are you sure your shoulder is all right?" he whispered. "Even a little pressed against the seat like this?"

 

James nodded. "Can hardly feel a thing," he said quietly. "Besides... You’re the one covered in cuts..."

 

The mention of the cuts reminded him of Holderbaum and how that bastard was still roaming free somewhere out there with a penchant for them both, and Q sighed, toes twitching inside his shoes, and leant into James. "I'm all right, too..." he spoke slowly. "Just need to focus on something else." Maybe it was the painkiller. God knew, really, but the psychological side-effects of it all were just hindering everything else.

 

"This may be completely inappropriate..." He growled slowly, "but focus on what I'm going to do to you next time I get you naked."

 

Q let out a breathy laugh at that. "Entirely inappropriate," he agreed, but the low growl that rumbled from James's chest, seeping into his skin and flesh, did make him shiver for a bit—the memory of those kisses trailing down his body remained more or less fresh in his mind. "But it quite narrows down the categories."

 

He breathed in and out steadily, and for a moment there, let himself go. Enough to relax for a bit. "Can you imagine it? This being our honeymoon, and we have decided to spend it traveling through Europe on a train from Switzerland to France?" He chuckled, his hands making a flourish of movements, and Q pretended not to see the bandages on his fingers and hands, as well as the burn on his cheek and the aches in his body. "Silly, isn't it?"

 

"Why is it silly?"

 

"Because the romantic scope doesn't quite fit into our current situation now?" he whispered with a sigh. Realistic and pragmatic, he rarely dreamt, and it just made whenever he did try to dream that much harder as well: he couldn't quite bask in the images, logic and reasons slipping into the scene and whatnot.

 

James raised his damaged hand to his lips and kissed them. His lips pressed gently. "But every time you dream something romantic or positive... Or just a little victory, you take back a little of your power that they stole."

 

"Really?" Q whispered, his voice small, as he looked at James. "I didn't know that." He shifted, though, taking in a breath, suddenly a bit nervous. "You are okay with it, right? Me thinking about you in a... marital context and everything?"

 

"Think about me in whatever way makes you feel stronger."

 

Q let out a breath. It wasn't entirely what he had expected, but it was a good enough answer as it was at any rate, he supposed, and he was happy with it. "How generous of you, husband mine," he chuckled, closing his eyes at the sight of the sleeting outside the window that turned the scenery surreal and almost dream-like.

 

James opened his arm for Q. "Come and cuddle up, baby... Try and rest..." He said gently.

 

Q gave a soft laugh. "Sometimes, it feels like you're my personal, portable, man-made cocoon or something, James." From the plane to Venice, and now this, the man had always tried to wrap him up as much as he could. It was wonderful on Q's part of course, and he'd enjoy it as long as James still gave it to him.

 

"Man-made cocoon? Aren't I classed as Organic, at the very least?"

 

Q hummed, burrowing close and soaking up the warmth like a sponge. His body got cold too easily as of late, he had noticed. "I suppose so, if you didn't count the part where you're essentially created by other human beings, of course."

 

Bond hummed an unintelligible, but his smile was warm as Q leant against him. "Rest, sweetheart... Nothing is ever, ever going to harm you..."

 

He listened to the promise and let out a sigh, gripping onto James as hard as he could, before nodding. It took a while, but centralizing his nerves to the sole focus of James's beating heart was soothing, and he, jumpy as he was whether he wanted to admit that or not, was somehow lulled into another semblance of sleep...

 

*

 

Time slipped by, as did the countryside as they wound their way up Europe, the train wiggling back and forth. Three times they changed and three times they were not apprehended. It took almost a week on the train with little more to do than talk and rest and hold each other until they came to Paris.

 

Bond stepped off the train and yawned, stretching.

 

It was early enough in the morning that there weren't many people around on the platform or the station itself, but the number of people that were pouring out of the train was enough to make it seem a little crowded. All the unfamiliar faces still unnerved him as he edged closer to James. "Has the stress of being my cocoon taken its toll?" Q teased.

 

"No, but being cramped up on a train has," James said and adjusted the jacket to make sure the gun was well hidden and took Q's hand. "Breakfast?"

 

"Sure." Q nodded with a smile, and squeezed at James's hand for a bit as they meandered through the stream of people. Eventually, they found a small café tucked away in a not too far away corner, picked entirely at random, and entered, the doorbell jingling softly in their wake.

 

"Any suggestions?" he asked, looking through the menu from an advantageous table.

 

James grinned at Q. "Coffee," he growled, wolfish. " Coffee and crepes?"

 

Q chuckled at the expression James wore. It was entirely ridiculous but endearing at the same time. "Excellent," he agreed, his foot touching the man's from underneath the table. They placed the order and waited, nursing their hot coffee as the drinks came out first, a faint French tune playing unobtrusively in the background.

 

"You have much more colour in your face," James observed, watching him.

 

"Oh?" Q blinked, a little surprised by the sudden comment. His face had, admittedly, looked less pasty than it had been nearly a week ago. "All due to your impeccable care, Mr. Bond," he replied with a smile.

 

"All due to a week on a train without having to move further than the buffet car," he corrected with a grin, and ran his foot slowly up Q's leg. "And it's Mr. Sterling, remember?"

 

"Possibly," Q smiled. But he froze a little at the reminder, having entirely forgotten about that at one point or another. He cursed at his incompetence, and tried not to let the minor slip-up cripple the mentality he had just managed to piece together. "Yes, Richard," he replied nearly sweetly, licking his lips at how James's foot was running up his leg right then.

 

"So, husband mine..." James said once the breakfast had been delivered. "How do you feel about a night or two in the capital of romance?" He asked, toeing off his shoe to run a socked foot up Q's leg slowly.

 

Saying one term and hearing it spoken aloud were apparently two different things, and Q had learnt that first-hand well enough. If he had felt oddly contented before just for uttering the words, he was ridiculously pleased and happy whenever James said them to him. Foolish, probably, but he couldn't quite deny himself the pleasure.

 

The fresh crepes smelt wonderful and were actually _soft_ when they came out, but, unfortunately, the soft noise that threatened to spill from Q's throat right then had nothing to do with that. The suggestive movements of that foot against his leg somehow managed to make James's suggestion seem that bit less dangerous than it should be.

 

"That isn't such a bad idea," he replied, keeping a cool facade. "Do you think it safe, though?" He wasn't even sure if another laptop had been prepared for him, considering that the last one had exploded into bits too fast, too quickly. He did mourn for it for some time, it had been his for a long while already, and he treasured a perfectly functioning device that he had modified and upgraded and maintained at the highest level of efficiency since university. But alas, nothing could be done for it now anyway.

 

James foot twisted and brushed the back of Q's kneecap gently. "No more safe than anywhere else is..." he said quietly. His eyes had darkened into something hungry. "But it means we can get catch any tails before we move to England."

 

Q let out a slightly unsteady breath, his mouth going dry. It was one of those spots of sensitivity on a person that James was aiming for, and since they were in a public café, he couldn't very well make a sound. (Not that he was complaining of course.) And he did notice it, the desires that darkened those cool blue chips. It still amazed him from time to time that all that hunger was directed at him.

 

He nodded in understanding. "Then I see no reason why not." He smiled, toeing his shoe off as well, and retaliated.

 

Bond jerked as he felt a foot slide up his calf, and his gaze turned dark. "Just you wait until I get you to a hotel," James growled in his ear and paused. "Does it still stand... That if I get tested then..." For some reason, the thought excited him... to have nothing between them.

 

Q grinned at the growl, a delicious shiver creeping up his spine, but he paused at James's next question and turned to look at the man, his breathing picking up a little just by the mere suggestion of it. "Yes, of course. I have no intention of retracting that..." He drew his lower lip between his teeth, gnawing softly at it. "We can find a clinic and have you tested now while we're at it..." They had the money, and, he supposed, they had the time as well. It was better in France then back to England at any rate, at least their movements wouldn't be easily monitored and tracked.

 

"That was what I was thinking..." he said softly and narrowed his eyes. A shudder moved up his spine. "Because then I want to familiarise myself with you below me again."

 

Q swallowed and gulped down a bit of his coffee, which had quite a unique, rich flavor that wasn't at all overly powerful and encompassing that he could appreciate—especially the aroma and perfect blend of sweetness and bitterness that clung at the tip of his tongue. Unfortunately, he was focusing too intently on this man before his eyes to actually pay the drink its due credit. "That could be easily arranged enough," he purred quietly with a smile.

 

“Three or four nights in Paris…” James murmured, blue eyes focused intently on Q as he teased with his foot, trying not to jerk the table. “The tourist thing in the day, if we are recovered from the nights?” he said softly, his eyes glittering.

 

Q chuckled, practically pinned under those intense gaze. "Of course," he breathed.

 

James hesitated.

 

"If you are okay... I would understand if after everything that you needed time..."

 

Q shook his head. "No..." He licked his lips. "They... violated me, James... And I-..." His toes curled, suddenly a little... skittish and uncertain. "I want you to help me peel all of that away from my skin."

 

James looked up at him, his expression softening into a gentler, more simmering heat, instead of the fire that had threatened to consume them both. He nodded. "Of course."

 

"Is that... selfish of me to ask?" Q asked quietly. "I just... need to feel you... need _you_ , in general." He swallowed, a weak smile on his lips.

 

"Of course it’s not," he said gently. "I would be honoured to."

 

Q smiled, his foot was nudging and brushing gently at James's ankle in thankfulness and appreciation. "Thank you, love..."

 

James grin was warm, but playful. "Any time," he replied. "Although I don't remember much about Paris, so we are doing the romantic tourist thing first... After we find a hotel and a shower and a change of clothes..."

 

Q's returning smile was wide and welcoming. "Certainly."

 

*

 

They finished breakfast not too long after that, and began carrying out their plan once they had paid. They managed to find the car park nearby that had their prepared car parked inside it relatively easy from then on, with just a bit of assistance.

 

James stopped when he saw the car and grinned wickedly. "God, I like this job," he purred.

 

"Why am I not surprised?" Q smiled back as they got in. He surveyed the backseat and let out a breath, not knowing whether that was relief or nerve, upon spotting a brand new laptop in the pile of clothes. "Well, it seems like we only need to worry about finding a hotel now." Somewhere probably near a clinic.

 

"You can look up and make reservations." Bond opened the boot and got out to have a look. He almost cackled as he came back. "New toys in the back "

 

Q reached for the laptop and was glad that, at least, he could still type quickly enough, despite the lack of his usual efficiency. Surprisingly, there were quite a few clinics and hotels near each other along the Seine, and there was a hotel where it just happened to be within walking distance to tourist attractions and a clinic nearby.

 

"Oh?" James sounded far too gleeful for some reason, Q thought to himself wryly just as he finished booking their reservation. "What are they?"

 

James looked around to make sure that they were alone—they were—and then came back slowly. "Enough weapons to start a war, including a rocket launcher," he said as he sat down.

 

"Make sure to regulate yourself then, good sir," Q chuckled, shaking his head. "We don't need any building to come crumbling down in our wake." Of course, he was joking. Once he had memorized the directions to the hotel and clinic (and their addresses, too, for good measures, seeing as it was one of the upside to having a good, graphic memory), he began fiddling somewhat clumsily with the machine, checking on its hard drive, capacity and speed. Honestly, he resented the bastard that had dared plant a heat bomb inside _his_ laptop. Bloody imbecile.

 

"I wouldn't be so bloody reckless," James grinned as the car hummed to life.

 

"Oh, I wouldn't say that so soon, now, 007," Q teased despite being partially distracted by the laptop in hand, already springing up ideas on how to improve it functionality. With that, he began pointing out the way for James to drive toward their booked hotel.

 

The hotel was small and had a tiny car park, where the Aston Martin outclassed every other vehicle there. "Shower, clinic, or mind blowing sex first?"

 

Q smirked, knowing the pleased look on James's face all too well, and hummed thoughtfully, making a show of trying to think about it. "Shower, definitely, which may or may not lead to mind-blowing sex." He chuckled softly. "Then we go to the clinic, and _then_ mind-blowing sex?"

 

"That sounds like a bloody good idea to me," Bond all but growled before bodily dragging him to the reception, and then up to the bedroom.

 

The moment the door clicked locked, James and him were already kissing, damn near desperately so, as Q held tightly onto his lover and allowed himself to be washed away by it.


	20. Chapter 20

James pushed him back against the door, hard. There was nothing about the kiss that was soft or gentle. It was raw and hungry and he groaned as he pressed Q into the wood.

 

Q shivered at the sheer domination that James was exhibiting here, and moaned into the kiss, his balance only intact because he was pressed between the man's solid body and the hard wooden surface of the door. He gasped softly, his hands winding around James's back to hold him even closer than before.

 

James wasted no time and he tore open the shirt.

 

Q hissed, the sound of popping buttons scattering themselves on the floor boards registering faintly inside his ears, as the chilly air seeped in and curled around his burning up skin. "Shower," he managed a reminder, trying not to curse at his fingers as he attempted at getting James out of his shirt as well.

 

James shrugged out his shirt and moved them to the bathroom by lifting Q up and over his shoulder in a fireman's hold, stopping to scoop the condom and the lube as he went.

 

James was perfunctory in his sweeping motion, and Q couldn't but let out a breathless laugh, not even bothering to fight. "Why is it that you seem to insist on carrying me like a sack of potatoes or something?"

 

"It's a caveman thing," he said as he dropped the condom and lube into the sink and set him down.

 

Q chuckled. "You're far from being a caveman," he replied, a low note in his voice as he looked James over once he had finally settled down once more. "Too sophisticated for the I-hit-you-in-the-head-and-drag-you-back-home sort of thing." And he grinned, hunger swimming in his eyes, but apparently still lucid enough.

 

"I carried you into the shower," Bond practically purred. "Doesn't that count?"

 

And that purr when straight to his groin. Q groaned. "A show off, maybe," he teased. "But not yet a caveman."

 

"That waits until later when I get you between the sheets..." He whispered, tugging Q close.

 

Q rolled his hips against James, swallowing a little thickly, a coy smile on his lips. "Looking forward to it."

 

"You’re wearing too much," he growled.

 

Q looked down: He still had his tee on, along with his trousers and belt. "I can say the same for you," he replied with a small smirk, reaching out to begin unbuckling James’s belt.

 

James made a nuisance of himself by kissing and being as distracting as possible.

 

Q growled, biting back down the shivering and moaning for long enough to manage, "James." Of course, it could have sounded far more serious, but he didn't think he could manage that right then. "Behave. It's already hard enough with the bandages."

 

Bond groaned and pulled him against him, hard, spreading his legs to pull Q against him. "Let me look at you, see how you are healing..."

 

Mostly, Q had tried to change his bandages himself in the toilet at the stations they had stopped at, and only asked for help with his fingers. So James wouldn't have really know. "Well, I think," he supposed. The bruises were yellowing out around the edges instead of looking too black and purplish with broken vessels and accumulating blood. All the cuts had closed themselves—the small ones merely scratches now, and the big ones were healing okay.

 

Overall, he looked worse than he felt, but it was still a mess to a certain degree, and his breath snatched a little at the sharp tug. And he reached to pull up the hem of his T-shirt, feeling oddly glad that they hadn't gotten far into their torture just yet in an attempt to drive away his sanity, or so Holderbaum had said.

 

He pushed Holderbaum away and smiled shyly at James.

 

James pulled him into his arms and pressed his lips to the crook of his neck. "You look good."

 

Q moaned, gasping and baring his throat for James, his hands clinging on to the other man. "That's good to know." He let out a breathy sigh.

 

James moved and pinned him to the wall, kissing and claiming him.

 

Q whimpered, the cool tiles pressing into his flesh, as his mouth molded into James's, drinking in all the passion and fire that were oozing from James.

 

James tugged his trousers down.

 

Q was as cooperative as he could, wriggling out of the loose garment easily enough and feeling it fall to his ankles. He groaned a needy sound, parting his thighs and tugging at James's trousers, too.

 

James guided his hands and as he kissed him, slowly peeling off bandages as he went.

 

Q sighed into the kiss, letting James pulling the bandages away, revealing healing flesh underneath whether it seemed his nails were trying as hard as they could to regrow once more. It didn't hurt too badly anymore, but the general ache was still there, but he saw that as more of an improvement than anything else.

 

Distantly, he wondered if he should have the two broken ones checked out at the clinic also but, really, that was rather the furthest thing away from his mind right then, and Q tucked it away into a corner so he could consider it later.

 

James's trousers finally slipped to the floor below as well, joined by his pants shortly afterwards, and Q smiled, running his hands along his lover's solid and firm torso.

 

"Shower?" He growled in his ear as he kissed him.

 

"Of course." Q nibbled on James's lower lip. "Let's not derail too far away from our original plan." And he tugged the man toward the shower, with care obviously so neither of them could slip.

 

"Mind blowing sex..." He chuckled. "And they accuse me of having a one track mind..."

 

Q huffed. "Perseverance, I'd say." Oh but who was he kidding? "Besides, mind-blowing sex during our shower was originally optional." His mouth latched onto the crook of James's neck, sucking on the juncture and that strong, beating pulse.

 

James scoffed as his back hit the wall, hard. "Optional my arse," he growled as he smacked the button for the shower... And soaked them both in bitterly cold water.

 

Q gasped, hissing at the freezing water hitting them both, before looking at the expression on James's face and laughing outright. "Oh, James!"

 

James had yelped loudly before he too burst into laughter, holding Q close as it warmed up.

 

Q held James close, face buried in the crook of the man's neck, and breathed in—his lover's scent, the smell of water, everything—the rumbling sensation of laughter lingered between them.

 

He tilted his head to press his mouth down against Q’s lightly, soft presses of affection.

 

Q shivered, turning his head just so he could catch those lips, the tender touches and caresses. The water was warming up, but the warmth that was seeping into him little by little did not all entirely come from it. "I love you," he whispered airily, meaning every word.

 

Bond’s hands slid up and down his back slowly and James actually blushed as Q said those three little words to him. Three words that meant so much. "I love you, too..." He breathed.

 

For the first time in the longest of time, Q surprisingly felt as though he was actually... contented. Peaceful. Despite everything. It was as if as long as these arms remained wrapped around him, as long as those hands stayed there stroking his back ever so lovingly, eyes on him and lips pressed to his skin and flesh... everything would be... okay.

 

And Q smiled, sighing with a breath that shuttered his ribcage. "That's good to know."

 

"I don't think you realise what you do to me," James growled and pressed his hips to Q, showing him exactly what he did to him.

 

Q swallowed and let out a small, choked laugh at James's words before groaning altogether when he felt that hard erection grind against him, pleasure exploding in his vision. "James," Q whined, his legs spreading, and he ran one up and down along the side of his lover's thigh.

 

"Yes, dear?" He did innocence very poorly.

 

"Arse," he muttered with a disapproving frown, one hand slipping down to give James's actual arse a sharp squeeze.

 

James bit down on his collar bone and growled softly. "I want you... Turn around... Put your hands on the wall..." He growled.

 

Q whimpered, biting on his lip just as a moan was escaping, and turned around, putting his hands pressed to the wall.

 

James sunk down, ignoring the water as it fell around them and obscured his vision. He cupped Q's arse and spread the cheeks slowly, massaging, and then flicked his tongue over the entrance slowly.

 

Q gasped, his memory from what he called the 'before' coming back and reminding him that this had happened once. Teasingly. Venice. "Picking up where we left off?" he asked breathlessly.

 

"Of course," another tentative lick. "And I am going to finish driving you mad," the next one was longer, slower, from ball to base of spine.

 

Q whimpered, his body jerking at the wet heat of James's tongue, crying out softly at that excruciatingly slow, dragging feeling. "I don't think you have to try much, James."

 

"Then I am going to enjoy it until you beg me to fuck you against the wall... Later, I will take you apart bit by bit... But now..."

 

"Oh, I've always known you'd somehow be my undoing," Q breathed, a quirk to his lips, as his body trembled under James's teasing.

 

"I’m going to make you never forget that you are mine later..." He slid the condom on himself. "But now... I want to see you stretch yourself..."

 

The possessiveness was intoxicating and addicting, Q found, just the words alone making him ache with a nearly insatiable hunger as he groaned aloud, desires tingling and singeing at his nerve ends. His breaths left him in small, sputtered bursts, and Q licked his lips at the request, complying easily enough.

 

He popped two fingers into his mouth, lapping the digits up generously while maintaining a firm hold of James's gaze, lust brewing intensely in his eyes, before reaching down and starting to push in, breaching himself first with one finger. An coquettish smirk curled on his lips, wanting to entice his lover more.

 

James all but growled at the expression on his face, a wild fire in his gaze, as he bent to add his tongue to the equation.

 

Q let out a choked, sharp cry, quickly leaning himself against the wall to keep himself upright and balanced. The sensation was strange and overwhelming, rendering him breathless, heart hammering in his chest, toes curling.

 

"Second finger..." He growled softly.

 

Q chewed on his lower lip, swallowed thickly, and added the second finger in, the burn hitching his breath for a moment, but it provided even more of an edge to this as he began moving his fingers, stretching himself out, chest rising up and down.

 

It was mesmerising and mouth watering, James watched with fascination. His hands slid down Q's back, watching him with fascination as he slowly stood up.

 

Q's knees were straining under the sheer effort of him willing it not to unbuckle, and, therefore, his face was then pressed flat against the wall, mouth opened a little to gasp in and out, drawing air into his desperate lungs, as his slightly shaky fingers continued to work. He shivered at the feeling of James's rough hands sliding down the skin of his backside.

 

Bond trailed up his spine, licking and kissing slowly up it, and slowly, when Q slipped his fingers in, he added one of his.

 

"F-fuck-!" The hissed curse flew out of his mouth unbidden, and Q squeezed his eyes shut, James's calloused finger in addition to two of his own stretched him just a tad too fast, but the friction was exquisite, and he bit down on his lips, his walls clenching down reflexively around the digits.

 

"Keep standing..." Bond growled in his ear. "Don't you dare let yourself go..." warned Bond in a steady tone, rutting against his hip as he slid his fingers in.

 

Easy for you to say, Q wanted to quip, but all that came out were pitched moans, torn and desperate gasps when he felt James rut against him. But there was no preparation, no warning when the other fingers pushed in, and thank God for the wall and the sort of position he was in (wedged between a rock and a hard place, almost literally so), because he was no longer sure if he had cried out, or bit on his lip, or both anymore.

 

The muscles in his arm strained, more so than the rest of his body, that is, but he kept moving it anyway, pushing back for more as the twined fingers continued sliding in and out of him, drawing away every measure of breath, every ounce of patience, and every remaining shreds of decency.

 

"Oh God," he breathed after a while, voice verging on a needy, wanton whine. "Please, James..."

 

James grinned. He had been stroking himself slowly, rutting against him. "Please what?"

 

Q couldn't quite reach his prostate like this, only barely so, but that bit alone was starting to stimulate him too much in the sense that he needed more. A lot more than just that. And Q told himself that he hated James Bloody Bond a whole lot as well.

 

A groan spilled, and dignity be damned, he was beyond the point of caring anyway. He wanted to feel James inside of him, badly, and this yearn was more than just a simple physical desire on his part. "Please... fuck me," he finally pleaded quietly... close to begging. "Please."

 

James kissed his shoulder and stepped behind him, running his cock over Q's entrance. He licked his lips. 

 

The fingers pulled out, and Q took that as his cue to retreat as well, moaning when he felt James's erection nudging and teasing him. His breathing labored, entrance shamelessly quivering in anticipation.

 

"Are you sure?" James breathed in Q's ear, running his hands down Q's arms.

 

Q's somewhat disjointed whine came out in merely a whisper, throat already bearing as it was, goosebumps breaking all over his shivering body upon meeting the hot breaths ghosting over his skin. "Yes. Please. I'm... entirely certain. Please."

 

"Are you begging?" Bond hummed. He was far too delighted by Q's voice.

 

Q whimpered in sheer frustration. "Yes, Sir..." he eventually conceded with a throaty groan. "I am begging. So please... please, oh God, fuck me."

 

James did so, pushing Q's hand out the way and he sheathed himself inside the young man, hard.

 

Q cried out, bracing himself against the wall, and took James's length in all the way, even all of that teasing preparation wasn't enough for that brutal thrust, and the aching burn it left in its wake. But the pleasure was immense, and he let out a choked moan afterward, the fullness was everything that he had asked for and more.

 

James pinned his hands to the wall, and rolled his hips, hard, before slamming back into him harder still. There was nothing soft, or gentle. It was raw and powerful.

 

Such utter domination encompassed and consumed Q, the fire and passion swallowing him whole as he closed his eyes tightly shut to enjoy every moment, every second of it. His body, though nearly thoroughly pinned, still managed a sort of basic, primal rhythm with James's brutal, bruising pace that was driving such needy noises past his lips that he couldn't quite hold them back anymore. Not that he had many fully functioning brain cells left that were not ridden with euphoria to actually make much of an effort anyway.

 

James shifted so that every thrust was pushing into Q, sliding over the prostate gland, over and over and over and he held Q there, claiming him... Until he wanted to make him more helpless. He drew both of his arms behind Q’s back and pinned them.

 

Q was climbing closer and closer to that peak, he knew and had no hesitation about throwing himself over that edge when the moment arrived. Then, suddenly, he felt James guide his arms backward. And he didn't realize what was happening until his hands were already secure behind his back, entirely restrained.

 

"James!" the hacker gasped, his body shuddering violently in his own helplessness of the position. The side of his face and his chest was flush against the wall, and Q moaned lewdly, ribcage rising up and down in labored breaths.

 

James suddenly slowed and his face appeared over Q's shoulder. "Alright?" He asked as he rolled his hips.

 

Q nodded, whimpering when the wonderful pace suddenly ceased. "Y-yes," he whispered, breathless, scrambling for something coherent. "Yes, James. I-It's all right."

 

James growled. It was the sudden mental image of the broken, blooded Q that had made him cease movement. But that yes went straight to his libido and he began to fuck him. Hard. Fast. Merciless.

 

Thankfully, Q's mind didn't make that association. This and his kidnapping were entirely separated, and he would make that distinction clear and prominent—James had already done most of the work with this. He was safe with this man, and he knew that for a fact.

 

The pace—rough and bruising and magnificent—picked up once more, and he was panting not too long after that, overloaded with a cocktail of neurotransmitters that was working up an ecstatic euphoria inside his brain and trembling body.

 

He was close. So close. "James, I'm—" he choked a little, trying to piece the fleeing words together, pushing them through the flow of obscene noises that were escaping his lips. "I'm going to—"

 

He pinned Q's wrists above his head... And slowed down. He chuckled softly against Q's shoulder and just rocked them slowly. "Not yet," he purred.

 

His arms were moved again, and when James slowed down once more, Q keened a desperate sound. "Christ... James—" he whined, trying to push back to the other man, the purring quality to those words of denial tingled his skin as it washed over him.

 

"It's been too long," he bit down on his neck. "I want to savour every moment of you coming... And later I am going to worship every inch of you..." He murmured.

 

Q gasped when teeth sank into his flesh, toes curling with a soft hiss between his lips. "James," he breathed, swallowing and shuddering just from hearing what his lover was saying.

 

"You like that..." He hummed and pulled back until it was just the tip of him inside Q. "Which part?"

 

Regulate your breathing. Q told himself in vain, heart pounding too hard, too fast against his ribcage, almost like the fluttering of a hummingbird, blood rushing past his ears in a pulsating roar. James was holding him teetering by the edge, and it was rendering him achingly delirious.

 

He whimpered. James was too much of a tease, and what was so aggravating about it was how effortlessly he seemed to do it. "All of it," he admitted, swallowing thickly.

 

Bond grinned and kissed his shoulder before he slammed into him, hard. "Come for me, Q... Come for me..."

 

The sudden harshness made him cry out, bucking somewhat, and James's words wove into his ears like golden thread, burning pleasure. He bit his lip and whimpered, and came with a shout after just a few more thrusts, blinding bliss erupting before his eyes and uttering a strangled cry, "James!"

 

"Fuck..." He snarled the curse and held Q still, thrusting once, twice... three times before he stilled, the shaking in his limbs betraying the orgasm, violent as it was.

 

Q was boneless and sated, limp in James's arms, breaths drawn and spluttering in his lungs. He could feel James pulse inside of him, and God, did he want to feel the man's hot seed filling him up on the inside.

 

Bond felt himself go boneless and sunk slowly to the floor of the shower, wrapping his arms around Q, and holding him tightly.

 

Q sank down with James, leaning his slightly shivering body against him, and curled in contentment. The tight hold and everything else made him feel more whole than he had been in a while.

 

Eventually, Bond regained the use of speech. "Fuck... That was good..." He panted.

 

Q chuckled, pressing a kiss to the man's clavicle. "Mind-blowing sex, remember?" And he turned a little pink when he realized that his voice was a little hoarse.

 

Bond chuckled. "Lost your voice?" He said breathlessly

 

"No," Q denied indignantly. "Still pretty much here." But James's heart was still beating so hard and loud, and it was rather amazing to think that he had been one of the catalysts that caused it. That aside though, Q could just tell he was going to feel rather sore sooner rather than later.

 

James hummed and kissed him softly, his body feeling relaxed and jelly like. "We should finish washing."

 

Q made a noncommittal noise and nodded absentmindedly, body still absorbing and stealing away James's heat, basking in the familiar warmth.

 

He chuckled and reached for the shampoo. "Tilt your head back, babe..." He said softly.

 

Q felt almost lazy as he leaned his head backward as told. But the haze in his mind was clearing up just a little, and he tried not to think too much about how things had started out just as pleasant and wonderful as this, only to go downhill fast and quickly afterwards. "We should obtain a tourist guide," he suddenly said out of the blue.

 

He chuckled softly and kissed his hair. "We should, should we?"

 

Oberhauser be damned, really. Holderbaum as well (and Q was relieved he hadn't shivered at the flicker of the name). They were in Paris, France, and he would spend the time here as warranted for any trip to this particular capital with James, even though such a thing was entirely selfish at best.

 

"Yes, to enjoy our honeymoon properly," he chuckled with a tease, despite feeling like the joke was increasingly becoming... less and less like a joke.

 

James leaned forwards and met his mouth with a kiss, a brief, chaste one before he pulled himself up slowly.

 

The tenderness made his insides constrict, and Q entertained himself with the idea that he was the only one left alive in this world who actually knew this side of James Bond. But there were vicious whispers in his mind—whispers that had always been there and were only magnified by Holderbaum—and he fought to keep them at bay, hands coming up to rest on either side of James's neck and leaning their foreheads against one another.

 

"Let's finish washing," he whispered finally, voice dropping into the lapse of silence. Q didn't like how his mood was swinging so abruptly and unpredictably these days, but there wasn't much he could do about it, other than keeping everything in check as much as he could.

 

James leaned in and pressed a kiss to the temple of the boy that he loved.  "You okay?" He asked softly.

 

Q nodded with a smile. "Yeah," he breathed, reaching for the shampoo and began washing the man's hair, too, mindful of his fingers, but they were getting better with every passing day, so at least they weren't too bloody unhelpful.

 

James wrapped himself around Q like a limpet and held tight, closing his eyes as he washed him by touch alone.

 

Q mapped out James's skin, the planes of his body, every scar, the jutting of bones... They were all hard edges he knew, hard edges that James softened out for him, and the thought alone cheered him up that tad more as Q worked to improve his mood, rewinding back to that part where they had promised to never let each other go, and smiled.

 

"So do you want to see the classics? The classic French scenes and then a romantic dinner somewhere later? As long as I don't get searched - I'm not going anywhere without a gun."

 

Q chuckled. "Of course. If that's what you want." His hands trailed up over James's face, his smile widening in appreciation of the protectiveness. "Come on, then." He held the man's hand and pulled him out of the shower, reaching for two towels and handing one over.

 

James ignored the offered towel, instead wrapped Q in his, pulling him close. "What do you want?"

 

Q blinked in surprise, but fell easily into James's arms. The question and the warmth radiating from his skin were enough to make him shiver just a bit as he snuggled close, leaning his head against the crook of James's neck. "To be with you?" he whispered with a soft chuckle. "And Paris classic scenes do sound wonderful."

 

"You have me, William," he pulled back to look at him. "You have me... You have done since we met," his fingers brushed his cheekbone. "I used to dream about you..."

 

The intensity of those blue eyes burnt into his own, and Q leaned into James's touch, greedily soaking up the contact and given reassurances. He felt like he was perhaps becoming a little too clingy, but he couldn't quite help it. Not really. Not until they were entirely safe. "Really?" he asked quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. "What did you see?"

 

"Flashes... Little scenes that I couldn't... The picture... You in that pink bloody jumper in Sweden... Didn't you have a bobble hat?" James asked as he scrubbed his hair gently with the towel.

 

Q pursed his lips to stop himself from sniggering aloud when James mentioned the pink jumper—of course he knew full well which one the man was referring to. Still, a bit of a blush crept on his cheeks nonetheless, the gentle scrubbing of his hair pulled a soft sigh from his nostrils. "Austria," he corrected with a soft breath. "And I do actually. Just didn't think it was an appropriate item to bring to a tropical island." He did pause a little and blink. "What picture though?"

 

"The boat... Sitting beside you at the museum. You asked me if I was expecting an exploding pen," he chuckled softly.

 

Oh... "It was our first meeting ever," Q elaborated with a smile. "We met in front of Turner's 'The Fighting Temeraire.' You said I must have been joking when I told you I was your new quartermaster."

 

He smirked and dragged him forwards to kiss him. "You've lost the spots since then..." And gained scars.

 

It pleased him immensely that James still remembered that part. "My answer then still stands, my complexion is hardly relevant. And neither is my age." He kissed James back, not thinking anything past the fact that the man could still remember bits and pieces about him before... before those bastards drilled into his head. It was heart-warming, yet saddening at the same time.

 

"You're spoiling me, James," he whispered when the kiss finally ended.

 

"I remember wanting you even in my dreams, Q..." He whispered.

 

That stopped Q in his track, and he blinked, perhaps a little owlishly. That couldn't be... could it? What about Dr. Swann then? She was... James had been attracted to her... hadn't he? Q opened and closed his mouth. "Are you sure that's not the interference of your later preferences?" he teased softly, but anticipation for the reply to that still swelled in his chest.

 

He shook his head. "I didn't know who you were until I saw you in Bali... I lied when I said I had never seen you before... I'd been dreaming about you for months..." He said quietly.

 

Q pursed his lips before letting out a soft, shaky laugh. There was a small lump in his throat and his eyes itched a little. He swallowed. "I'm glad I wasn't the only one then..." he admitted in a whisper, winding his arms around James's body and holding onto his back. "I couldn't stop thinking about you before Bali either."

 

Bond raised his head and there was a flush in his cheeks. "Really?"

 

Of course, James was the first one he had ever told this to. Q nodded. "Yes." His hands smoothed over the plane of the man's back, feeling beaded moisture from the shower they had just taken and heat under his palms. "You went MIA just like that, disappearing without a trace, and I..." He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head. "I couldn't stop thinking about it, about you, whenever I saw the other Double-Ohs... I guess your presence has always been too prominent to be ignored... or gone so abruptly."

 

"Because I was a double-oh?" He asked softly and looked up at him. "Or were you my saving grace even then?"

 

"Because you are you with your charms and personality and daredevil recklessness. You work your way into people's worlds unobtrusively and yet command your own space... You were always taking risks, you still are, and always seemed to have a penchant for coming back from the death, resurrected and alive and well. But that time... months went by, there was no news, no hopes, no promises... then I was pulled from your case, and I... I just couldn't stop thinking..." What-ifs, could-haves. He shook his head.

 

"You think far too highly of me, Q," James said softly, brushing his fingers through his hair. "You really do... But I'm glad you never forgot me..."

 

Q shook his head. "It's the truth, James." Even if that was just his version of it, but he had observed the effects James Bond, 007, had on other people, and there was no indication that all of his descriptions were wrong. "And you're a very difficult person to forget." Perhaps it was the air that James had around him, Q thought, standing on his toes just a bit to press a kiss to the man's lips.

 

Bond kissed him, soft and warm. "You make me happy, Q," he told the young man softly.

 

Q smiled into the kiss. "Good." He slipped his hands to rest on James's shoulders. "Because you make me happy, too, and I intend on maintaining this for as long as possible... husband mine." Indeed... all the dark clouds that had shrouded over his mind minutes before seemed to have dispersed completely by then, and he was glad for that.

  
Within half an hour, they were dressed and on the streets, heading down the first set of stairs into the Parisian version of the underground, which was a lot more open than they had in London, and the first stop was, of course, the Eiffel Tower.


	21. Chapter 21

It was towards the end of the year, and the weather had already turned rather cold, but Paris was still a beautiful place nonetheless, and the Eiffel Tower was no exception. Q smiled, the tower was a structure to behold with its impressive height, even if it was no longer the tallest in the world. He squeezed James's hand as they went through the crowd, staying close to the man. "Do you want to go up there?" he asked softly, gesturing at the tower in general. The line wasn't terribly long...

 

James looked at Q and grinned savagely down at him. "Stairs or lift?" He purred. "We can take the stairs to the first level and then lift the rest of the way? It's up to you."

 

Somehow, he had a feeling that James was sort of on to something here, if the savage grin and that shivering purr were anything to go by. "Sure." He smiled. "Stairs then lift." And suddenly, he was reminded of something as they walked along on the paved ground. "Do you still have my phone, James?"

 

James fished it out his pocket and handed it to him. The gun was secure on the shoulder rig.

 

Q grinned. "Thank you." He accepted it into his hand, giving the small device a squeeze and turning it on. "You know, my only care is for this." And he showed James that picture with the man holding two toddlers while other children gathered around and surrounded him that he had taken just as they entered that Indonesian village back when all this had first started out.

 

James arched an eyebrow... and then laughed. "You were planning to blackmail me!" He accused, laughing as they shuffled up the line.

 

"No..." Q leered with a playful grin before shrugging. "Well, maybe a little at first..." He chuckled. "But I got selfish and wanted to keep it to myself." He winked and put the phone back into his pocket. "So your secret is safe with me, love."

 

"You have to remember that I've screwed you against a wall, if that got out..." He mused.

 

Q laughed. "Please. If Moneypenny knows about us, then I've gotten no face left to keep anyway." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance even if his neck and cheeks were burning up in the cold breeze.

 

"Does it matter if she knows? I will shout it from up there," he jerked a thumb up.

 

Q flushed bright pink, staring wide-eyed at James with sheer surprise and embarrassment. "You wouldn't dare," he said, but the conviction in his words wasn't actually strong enough.

 

Bond grinned. "Say that again," he dared softly.

 

Q swallowed, weighing out his options here and biting on his bottom lip, daring boldness wriggling in his chest. But he wasn't exactly the bold and reckless one here... no. It was James, and the man didn't look like he was jesting at all. "Prat," he murmured and turned away, the blush reaching the tips of his ears.

 

A arm looped him from behind and James pressed a kiss to his shoulder as they got to the ticket booth, where the seller conveniently spoke English, and they had a way to the top.

 

Q huffed, but pulled James's arm closer to him for warmth and closeness. The wind picked up a little and he snuggled up closer to his lover.

 

They climbed the stairs and then went up in the lift to the top, it felt like they traveled forever but it wasn't that long in the end.

 

Paris opened up in a wide, almost unlimited view, and Q's eyes widened for a fraction. It was breathtaking, the city skyline, and he shivered for a moment, the dizzying height somewhat got to him, but it was all right after a moment. "It's beautiful," he breathed.

 

James smiled and stood behind Q, wrapping his arms around him from behind, smiling warmly. "Yes... It is..."

 

Q smiled, holding on to James's arms, as the man draped over him like an oversized, incredibly warm blanket. "Wish I could capture this moment as it is..." he whispered, perhaps more to himself.

 

"Well, let’s do so," he said and came to stand beside him, plucking Q's phone free and rotating it so that the camera pointed at them. "Smile!"

 

Q was, for a lack of a better word, surprised—he hadn't thought James would be keen on taking pictures. Not at all. So there was a sort of wide-eyed, startled smile on his face when the camera flashed.

 

Bond arched an eyebrow at him and smirked. "Not your best picture, love," he teased.

 

Q huffed. "Never have been that photogenic," he murmured with a smile, reaching for the camera and switching it to video recording. "Paris Honeymoon. First destination, Eiffel Tower," he said, filming the scene for a few brief seconds then rounded the camera onto James. "Say hello, love."

 

James leaned against the railings and raised a hand, the city sprawled out behind him. "Hello, love. Benjamin Sterling, get over here and kiss me."

 

"Yes, dear," Q chuckled, unable to hold back his grin and bit his lip a little and went over after switching to front camera to press a kiss to James's lips.

 

James was having none of this chaste, brief kiss. It was a full blown, smack on the lips with tongues.

 

Q moaned, nibbling and sucking back avidly, as they explored and tasted one another, a sense of contentment and warmth blooming under his skin, chasing away the creeping cold breezes. "And here I was, aiming for PG," he whispered with a slightly dazed, but nonetheless amused, expression once they finally parted.

 

"Best keep that video for us then," he said softly.

 

"Of course," Q whispered back with a soft chuckle, leaning his forehead against James, and turned off the camera. That should be enough, he thought to himself. He had never had any other intention of letting anyone else go near these things at any rate. Photos, maybe, but videos? They'd have to see about that.

 

"Can you send the photos to my phone when I get one?" James asked as he slipped his arm around Q. They went to the champagne stall and James bought two plastic flutes of it.

 

"Of course." Q nodded with a smiled. He was a little surprised to see that there was a champagne stall, of all things, up here, but considering that this was France, and Paris no less, he supposed he should've sort of anticipated this. Romance and everything. "Trying to get me drunk again, dear husband?" he teased and smiled sheepishly, clicking the rim of their glasses softly against one another, distinctly separating the kidnapping from everything that had come before it that night.

 

"Only trying to help you relax, baby," James said gently as he touched his shoulder lightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You’re tense... It's all over your face..."

 

Q froze a little at that, but he leaned into the kiss either way, a sheepish edge pulling at the corners of his mouth. "It's _that_ obvious?" he murmured and took a sip of his drink, leaning into James's side.

 

Bond slipped his arms around him gently. "Babe... After everything that's happened, you have every right to be tense..." he whispered.

 

Q nuzzled against James somewhat with a soft sigh. He was quiet for a bit before asking, "Does it get better?" He was starting to seriously wonder how James could have handled all of this at all the way he did... Thinking back on the drinks, the sex... maybe it was all understandable. But definitely not justifiable, dangerous vices as those were.

 

James shook his head and let out a bitter little chuckle, his voice soft and rolling. "No?" He said softly. "Not in the slightest..." He rolled his shoulders. "But give it time... It gets easier to deal with. Keep throwing six months at it and eventually it will only be a dream on your very darkest days," he pressed a kiss to Q's head. " And talk to me... You were tortured, Q... Keeping it all in won't help."

 

That bitter sound saddened Q, his stomach clenching a little as he slid an arm around James, too, holding the man close. "Six months seems a little far away," he chuckled back. "But I suppose I can't trust anything if I even doubt my husband's own personal guide." A sigh twirled from his lips; the prospect of talking didn't sound too appealing. "But I poured my heart out to you already." He blinked up at James, as though he could actually get away with that.

 

He smiled a little. "I know... When you’re ready to talk about all this," he touched his jaw, "I'll be here."

 

It was scary, Q had realized for some time, how he had come to bring James Bond's life in higher regard than even that of his own. Even so, Q wasn't pulling away from this, the flames between them that attracted him closer and closer to the licking fire like a foolish, suicidal moth—not then, not ever.

 

"Thank you, James," he whispered, leaning up to kiss the man on the nose. "I'm sure you will be."

 

Bond blinked at where Q kissed and seemed surprised and he smiled. That same, almost shy smile.

 

That made him smile as well, and Q reached up his free hand to cup James's cheek. It was a lovely expression on him, and Q was quickly cataloging it away. "To our honeymoon." He raised up his flute in a toast, even if it was already partially drained, and chuckled.

 

He chuckled and nodded. "I will toast to that," he said quietly .

 

"You'd better be," Q teased, clanking their plastic glasses together. "Where do you suggest we go next after this?" The day was still long, after all, and the clinic would be there waiting for them still. There were several places of interest around here that they could try out, according to Q's memory anyway.

 

"Probably to make sure that I am not diseased... That would be a good start... Then where would you like to go?" he raised Q's hand and kissed the fingertips lightly. Damaged as they were, he still kissed as if he could heal the pain.

 

Q nodded, watching as James pressed kisses to his fingertips ever so tenderly and lovingly in a way that made his heart ache. The man was too good to him, Q thought to himself, lips quirking into a small smile. "Hmm... Musee d'Orsay, maybe?" he suggested quietly. "I heard it's a train station turned art gallery... Is that... okay? Not too boring?" He chuckled softly.

 

James smiled and twisted their fingers together. "Let’s go..." He said quietly.

 

Q tightened his grip to their laced fingers and nodded before leaving. There were several nearby clinics along the side of the Champ-de-Mars that could help them.

 

James squeezed Q's hand. "Stay close to me?" He said quietly. "I’m not sure how I would react to medics..." he murmured.

 

"I know." Q pulled James close, or maybe it was him stepping closer to the other man. Honestly, it was hard to tell. "You've never liked being in medical." There was a rueful smile on his lips.

 

"I don't want to hit someone who pokes me with something sharp," he said with a small smile, rueful.

 

"I'll be sure to stop you from doing just that. Don't worry." He paused, his smile turning a little amused. "Unless, of course, I hit them myself for doing anything unjustifiable to you."

 

"How about we try not to insult or offend anyone while we are here, yes?" He teased.

 

Q sniggered. "Yes, love," he promised in a sing-song voice.

 

*

 

They, eventually, managed to navigate themselves to the clinic and entered it. He squeezed James's hand tightly, the clean, sterile smell of the office wriggled into their lungs the moment then pushed the door in; the sound of the chiming bell crisp in the air-conditioned space.

 

"It'll be alright," Q whispered as they headed to the receptionist and asked the woman behind the counter for a form to fill in.

 

James had come to a dead stop the moment that they were in the room and his face contorted into a frown, one that he had worn many many times before in his life.

 

The wait made him tense as he let Q fill in his fake ID, shifting, restless. There was a high pitched whine that came from somewhere and made him jump.

 

They seated themselves down on unconformable plastic chairs in the waiting area as Q gripped the pen between his fingers a bit tightly while filling out James's form according to the information he had memorized.

 

His hand shot out to hold onto his lover's own when he jumped at the sudden whine, which turned out to have come from a child emerging from one of the hallways to their left.

 

"It's okay... James," he whispered into James's ear, the pitched whines from the child who was then holding its cheek overriding his voice. "It's okay. I'm here."

 

They handed the form back in, thanked the nurse, and sat back down to wait for their turn. Q never left James's side for a single moment.

 

James shuffled, restless. He played with Q's fingers and shifted, huffing until eventually he snarled out a curse. "How long do we have to wait?"

 

"Hush, now," Q scolded softly, trying to lean close to James, decency be damned, because the man was growing too restless. "It probably won't-"

 

Just then, a door opened, another nurse poked out. "Monsieur Richard Sterling." He froze a little, seizing James's hand that bit tighter.

 

"Come on," he whispered.

 

James straightened as he stood up and nodded once. Gripping Q's hand he followed the doctor into the room.

 

The doctor didn't protest as Q went into the room with James, and the man sat them down and began to walk them through the procedure of what was about to take place, and just listening to him alone was enough to make Q feel uncomfortable... 

 

James nodded and signed the consent forms but insisted that Q would have to be within eyesight at all times... Also he refused to leave the Walther where anyone could touch it.

 

Once they were settled, the questions started coming, asking James about his sexual history, things like how many partners he had had and what sort of sexual activities had he engaged it. Q licked his lips, listening tentatively, although the smell of detergent was rather setting his teeth on edge.

 

James answered the questions with very little that was truth, because he had no idea... Plus he didn't want a paper record of himself anywhere. He said that he was into men, and that he had been with half a dozen men... Maybe more. He said that he had some scarring from an incident when he was younger and absolutely refused to explain more.

 

The doctor jotted brief notes as they went along, none the wiser for the easy, albeit a little tense, lies James was feeding him. Q had no problem with it really, they were sufficient answers as long they would provide them with the necessary and appropriate testing. Q's foot stretched out to nudged unobtrusively at his lover's.

 

Once done, the doctor informed that he would first need to draw blood for testing before starting on the genital examination. Q chewed in the insides of his cheeks and reached for James's hand.

 

"Does everything seem alright?" Bond asked Q in a quiet voice.

 

Q nodded softly. "Everything is in order... I'm just recalling your comment about being poked with something sharp is all," he tried at a tiny joke to ease up the tension, squeezing James's hand.

 

"More worried about the physical..." He murmured. "It's pretty..." He made a vague gesture at his groin, "messy."

 

Q felt a twinge seizing his throat. His hand tightened in James's, as much as he could. "It's not that bad, love. Just a bit of scarring as you've said." And he hoped that sounded reassuring; he was rather out of his depth here and could only hope he was saying the thing the man needed to hear.

 

It was pretty bad, and when the doctor came back, James would not let go of Q's hand as he lay back on the table. His grip tightened.

 

Their knuckles turned a bit white under the sort of force with which they were gripping each other's hand, but it was still not enough in Q's mind, the contact, and while he knew this must be done, the fact that this was discomforting James so made him rethink this decision over and over. However, he kept his expression in check for James, thumb tracing over the back of the man's hand and bending down to once more whisper, "It's going to be all right," in his ear when the doctor began his probing.

 

James snarled but said nothing, fixing his gaze on the ceiling.

 

Q didn't flinch. He had seen James being dragged back into medical and how he reacted during the durations enough times to know full well of the man's aversion to it. He held on firmly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as the doctor examined everything with those gloved hands of his. Nothing he could do about, even though he knew for a fact that this would feel even more unsettling for James, or anyone for that matter, than it already had.

 

He bit back a sigh of relief when the doctor pulled away.

 

The reaction was instant, James's legs slammed shut and he sat up.

 

Q pressed a kiss to James's temple and nudged the man's shoes, which had been asked to be taken off, over for him to put on more easily and readily. The nurse assistant directed them back to their chairs for the wait. The doctor returned a few minutes later, gloves and mask off, to give them the results. Q never let go of James.

 

"All is well, Mr Sterling. You show no signs of infectious diseases that could be harmful to your husband," he said with a smile. "Enjoy your honeymoon."

 

Q's face broke into a grin. It was wonderful news, even if he would not have treated James any differently had the result been anything otherwise. "Thank you, Doctor," he said, squeezing James's hand again.

 

They were out of that clinic in a flash afterwards.

 

James was quiet when he emerged, face set into a mask. No emotions... No pain or embarrassment. He scowled.

 

"What's wrong, James?" Q asked quietly once they were out of the door, wondering if something were the matter.

 

"A bit embarrassed... More than a little humiliated," he said after a moment.

 

"You did what was necessary, love," Q chided softly, giving James another kiss on the cheek. "If it's of any consolation, I'll erase all records from their database?"

 

He turned his head to look at Q and his smile was grateful. "As if you weren't planning to already..."

 

Q smiled sheepishly back. "Anything for my husband." He winked playfully and tugged on James's hand. "Come on, let's go find something to eat," he whispered, feeling glad that he at least had regained some of his appetite.

 

James twisted his hand into Q's and the tension had faded now.

 

Q brought James's hand up to kiss its knuckles when he realized that he hadn't gotten his fingers checked out. He blinked, shrugging it off.

 

"Love you..." James told him quietly. "I really do..."

 

That warmed his heart, and Q smiled a wide, contented smile. "Love you, too, James," he whispered, just so only the two of them could hear.

 

And they had the all clear. They had the all clear to concentrate their affection with nothing between them.

 

*

 

Paris culinary culture was delightful, as expected, but what got him caught up at bit more than the main courses he and James shared, was the sweets.

 

And he thought he had just gotten himself addicted to choux à la crème. Or cream puffs. The puff was light and soft, while the cream inside remained cooling to the tongue, melting at the barest of touch, and at the right level of sweetness that wasn't too overwhelming.

 

"Ahh..." Q said, currently trying to feed James one of them.

 

James chuckled and opened his mouth for Q, making the appropriate sounds too.

 

Q bit his lip, barely containing his wide smile, as he placed the small sweet properly inside the opened mouth and on James's tongue. He felt like a silly schoolgirl out on the first date with her huge crush, but he didn't care—he was neither a schoolgirl nor was this emotion between them could be described as a mere crush. They had been through too much, especially James, and whatever sweetness Q could instill, he would not hesitate.

 

James snapped his mouth closed and munched on the pastry. "Mmm..." He said and swallowed. "Not bad."

 

Q gave a small, surprised yelp when James did that, his forefinger and thumb still between the man's lips, before pulling away with a laugh. "They're good, James," he protested out of sheer amusement. "People sometimes mess up either the puff or the cream. Really." The end results wouldn't be bad, but the pastries couldn't taste as light as these.

 

James reached out and thumbed some of the cream from the young man's lips. "A sweet tooth, mmm?" He asked as he licked the cream off.

 

Q flushed, but his eyes trailed James's thumb with the bit of cream on it before the man popped it into his mouth. "Honestly? I don't crave sweets, not before I get my hand on some, apparently." He chuckled softly. "I can't quite remember whether I have a sweet tooth, or I've been conditioned into having one." He chewed on another one, a satisfied noise in the back of his throat accompanied the sigh, drowned by the music of the café, thankfully. "Sugar gives us... programmers... the sustainable energy boost, you see."

 

"Ahhh," he said sagely. "One of the major food groups when pulling all nighters?" He asked with a smirk.

 

Q eyes narrowed minutely with a breathy laugh, knowing that James was already perfectly aware of this despite the question. "Of course. And lots of caffeine in never ending tea. Or coffee for some." He scoffed with a wry smile and shrugged. "Essentially what we rely on to survive."

 

“I need to get you eating better,” he teased as he ate the Pain au Chocolate, and dipped in his coffee.

 

"I actually am eating better now, James," Q chuckled, regarding James fondly. "More than I thought I'd since Bali till now."

 

“Pastry, sugar and tea do not count as food groups,” he replied, laughter in his voice.

 

Q huffed. "They're still in there somewhere I can assured you, a combination of eggs, flour, milk, water, and butter, and whatever else they add into pastries themselves." Of course, he was just rambling here, buying his time to just leaned over and bit down onto a corner of James's Pain au Chocolate before pulling away with a sheepish smile.

 

James ignored the sarcasm, in favour of stuffing his face with the rest of the Pain au Chocolat, his eyes smouldering… and then he froze, looking past Q. After a moment, he relaxed. “I thought I saw… never mind…”

 

Q paused mid chew, staring at James, his body seizing up. "What..." He cleared his throat. "What did you see?" His voice was small and quiet.

 

"I thought I saw... Oberhauser..." he said quietly, eyes focused a million miles away. "But... It can’t be..."

 

Q turned his gaze to the window, not knowing what he was looking for but eyes still searching for it nonetheless. Searching for that monster who had orchestrated all of their hardships. Q licked his lips and reached for James's hand. "We should leave," he whispered, adrenaline running high in his system.

 

James didn’t answer him for a long moment, and then turned back to him. “It can’t have been him,” he smiled and pressed his lips to Q’s in a chaste kiss. “Don’t worry,”

 

Q shivered, trying to will himself to relax, and leaned in, breathing in James's scent to calm himself. "Okay..." he breathed, managing a small smile. "Okay."

 

James slipped an arm around him. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, touching his hair. "I love you... you’re safe, baby..."

 

It was very soothing, the way James tended to touch his hair and petting it softly. Q swallowed and leant into James. "I'm fine... I just..." He shook his head, gathering the fraying edges of his nerves and holding them close. "I don't want you to be hurt again, least of all by that monster."

 

“I won’t be,” James kissed his hair. “I won’t let him get me again, Q…” he whispered, lifting his face.

 

Q smiled, letting out a sigh, feeling the cold dread releasing its grip on his just a little. "Good." Even so, his nerves weren't entirely settled. He finished his sweets quickly then turned to James, asking if they could at least move out of the café.

 

"Do you want to go back to the hotel?" James asked quietly. "You look ill... Or is it sugar overload?"

 

Q laughed a soft, breathy sound. "Sugar overload most probably." He squeezed James's hand, glad that at least his own wasn't clammy. "It doesn't have to be the hotel... anywhere else is fine." He smiled. "What other place do you have in mind?"

 

"Just a walk?" He offered Q his arm.

 

"Lovely." Q held on to James's arm once they had paid for everything and exited the café and stepped out into the busy streets.

 

James offered Q his arm. "Walk and talk and see where we end up?"

 

"Somewhere interesting, I hope." Q chuckled softly, trying to relax himself further, as they blended in.

 

They ended up walking along the river, hand in hand and going towards the centre of Paris. "How about a river boat?" James asked with a smile.

 

This somehow had Q laughing quietly. "You really do like your boats, hmm?" He grinned and nodded. "Why not?"

 

"It's like a tour bus, we can go to Notre Dame if you would like? I have a vague..." He waved a hand, "image."

 

Q flashed a smile, pecking James on the nose. "Sounds brilliant."

 

They got on the river boat and James stood on the prow, watching as the water parted in front of them and came back to find a seat with his husband. Sunglasses over his eyes, and the top button of the shirt open, he looked casually smart instead of the usual business crisp... And he was turning heads.

 

Q, of course, did notice the sort of attention James was drawing—the man was gorgeous after all, handsome face and solid, well-toned body. And with the sort of jealous streak he had, he didn't, not for a single second, appreciate that, even more so when some of them seem almost like they were trying to undress James with their eyes.

 

His eyes narrowed. Perhaps this was just him being rather childish, but James hadn't been wrong on his assessment about Q being a little possessive. He leaned into James's side, pressing a kiss to the man's cheek.

 

James slipped an arm around him and smiled warmly. "Alright?" He asked over the sound of the engine, but soft enough so that only he could hear.

 

Some of them had, wisely, turned their heads away. Good choice, Q thought to himself. "Contemplating your handsomeness, is all, love," he replied in a half-joking, half-serious tone, a bit of mischief glittering in his gaze as he placed one arm over James's middle for good measure.

 

Bond laughed softly and smiled. "If you say so, dear... If you say so..."

 

"Of course," Q replied and took out his phone. "First day of our honeymoon still, but we're on the Seine now," he said, filming the beautiful scenery that they were passing through gradually on the bank. "We've just had Choux à la crème, and Pain au Chocolat, which were delicious to me and 'not bad' to Richard." The false name sounded wrong, but with Oberhauser still haunting the edge of his mind, he wasn't risking it.

 

Q turned the camera onto James with a grin. "Anything to say for yourself, dear?"

 

James arched an eyebrow and lounged back in the chair. "Nothing that I am saying on camera," he purred.

 

Q felt heat creeping up his face at the purred innuendo, not to mention the easy lounging position that James had just assumed here, as he gave the man a playful swat. "You sly man," he laughed with a shake of his head.

 

James laughed and shoved the sunglasses into the back of his head and turned the camera to face them. "Hi mum, we are having a great time and we will see you soon," he said, playing the part as he smacked a kiss into Q's cheek.

 

Q caught on quickly enough. "And p.s., mum: I still think your description of him being just a handful is a major understatement." He grinned, turned to kiss James's cheek, too, and turned off the camera. "I'm so calling this our romantic journal," he said with a soft chuckle.

 

James was watching him with a hot gaze. "A handful, am I?" he rumbled.

 

Q's skin prickled, goosebumps spreading all over as the low syllables trickled over his senses in a honeyed glaze. He licked his lips and barely suppressed a shiver. "A handful and more, I can assure you," he purred back.

 

He chuckled quietly and leant in. "Wait until I get you to our bed..." he whispered

 

Q hummed, licking his lips and shivering outright now. "You're always promising that, love," he teased.

 

He looked at Q and grinned wickedly. "And have I let you down yet?" he asked quietly.

 

Q hummed, making a show of contemplating over this, before leaning into and stole a kiss from James's lips. "No. Not yet."

 

"Not yet? Not yet?!" He made a show of gasping dramatically before leaning over and tugging Q onto his lap.

 

Q laughed, the tension and slightly apprehension that had formed since James mentioned Oberhauser dispersing, and bit his lip with a barely contained grin. "Not yet," he repeated then completed it with, "not ever.

 

"But, love, people are staring," Q said this, even as he leaned more into the other man, rather pleased with himself, childishly so or otherwise, seeing as those who had been looking as James now knew that this wonderful man was together with him.

 

"Like I give a fuck," he muttered as he pressed a kiss to Q's hair, mouthing over his scalp to find his nose, press a kiss, than his mouth. Before them, the river split into two.

 

Q scoffed. "Of course not." As long as the touches and contact didn't extend beyond this, he really wouldn't mind it either, and he knew James was entirely aware of that himself. He sighed, nuzzled the man's neck for a bit, and rested a cheek on his shoulder. The classic, sophisticated architectures on either side of the Seine were marvels to gaze that, but he found it dulled in comparison to the warmth he was burrowing in right then.

 

Ever since the rescue, and he tried not to shudder upon thinking back on it, James had always made an effort to keep him close, physically and mentally, and he appreciated that a lot—both the encouragements and reassurances, and all secure holds like this just to warm his now-usually-cold body up.

 

"Thank you, James," he whispered into James's ear. "For everything." God knew he would've died then been thrown away in some snow-covered ditch if the man had not found and retrieved him.

 

James pressed a kiss to his jaw. "What for?" He asked softly, looking up as Notre-dame came into view, casting a shadow over the river. The water boat came to the dock.

 

"For being here for me." That was already more than enough. And he gave James a wide, tight-lipped smile, and kissed him between the brows just before they had to stand up and step off the boat.

 

"You have always been there for me," countered James softly. "It’s a pleasure to be able to return the favour."

 

 _Not exactly always_ , was the unfortunate thought that popped up in Q's mind, but his smile widened nonetheless as he laced their fingers together. "Come on," he whispered as they stood to leave. "Let's go and see some French Gothic." As well as the famous rose window.


	22. Chapter 22

They walked up through the bushes to the door and went inside. "I remember in here," Bond breathed. The memories were old, vague... childhood.

 

The cathedral was vast and spacious as he had imagined, with scattered groups of visitors here and there. The architectural formations and constructions were precise, refined, and impressive. "Oh?" Q whispered back, tightening his hold in James's hand. "During one of your missions?" he prompted quietly as they walked down along the nave.

 

He shook his head, eyes on the windows, the roof as he walked. "I don't know... I don't remember..."

 

They paused a little at the north transept, the golden light of the afternoon shining down through the stained glass of the rose window and creating a cascade of colors raining down upon them. He squeezed James's hand and turned to look at him—the man looked absolutely beautiful basking in such a light as it set his eyes off in a bright, brilliant glitter.

 

"It's okay..." he whispered. "You're here with me now." And while it wasn't much of a reassurance, it was still a point that he would like to tell the man, over and over and over again.

 

James turned to him and nodded very slowly. "I know..." He whispered and looked at Q, green eyes glittering.

 

Q smiled with a soft exhale and nodded back. "I'm glad then."

 

And they completed the tour, walking past the apse, looking into the ambulatory, then slipping over to the opposite transept along the side aisle for the south rose window. Stained glass windows... they had always been one of his favorite architectural features with all its color and soft tranquility that it provided.

 

But what was more important was that he was now finally exploring some of the world's beauty, with the man that he loved.

 

Bond followed Q, holding his hand as they explored in reverent silence... Just being together. At the edge, against one wall, he spotted a small rack, filled with candles. They flickered, and he approached.

 

The sign read that you could light a candle for a small fee and let a candle burn for those you loved.

 

James approached and dropped a few coins into the jar. Lifting a tea light, he lit it from one of the other candles and set it down to stand on the row below. He didn't pray. He didn't believe in a higher power, but he let the symbolic gesture become peace. For himself, he would always be able to return here and find peace.

 

Q's eyes followed James's movements, tracing them carefully and edging them into his memory. The serenity of the moment was not lost on him as he did the same and placed his candle next to James's, giving the man the much needed note of quietness in this very loud life they had been leading. He didn't believe in a higher power himself, either, being a logical, scientific person, but he could appreciate the peace that this place offered to those who sought for it.

 

For almost a full minute, Bond watched as the candle flickered and then he turned slowly to Q. "Come on, love," he muttered softly.

 

Q turned to observe James for a long moment, watching as the flickers of the golden flames from the candles danced in those blue eyes, casting gentle shadows over the man's features and softening out his hard edges. And finally, he reached out to take James's hand into his own and nodded.

 

James raised his hand and pressed a kiss to it lightly. "Come on..." There wasn’t much light in the room. "Let’s find some sun."

 

Q chuckled softly. "Sounds good."

 

As it turned out, sunlight wasn't too hard to find, it was there the moment they stepped out of the cathedral, and he felt immensely warmed by it, but not as much as how James's hand in his was doing.

 

Bond seemed to brighten the moment that they were outside. He shivered, and his face warmed. The melancholy mood seemed to fade as he leant in, pulled Q to him and kissed him softly.

 

Q sighed into the kiss, melting into James's arms. The man had always had this thing where he could so easily sweep someone off his feet, even with the simplest of gesture.

 

"You alright?" James asked him softly. "You look tired... and worried..." he said softly.

 

Q laughed a little, leaning his forehead against James's shoulder. "It's a usual look for me, love," he joked.

 

"Worried about me?" He said softly, touching his hair, brushing out of his eye.

 

Q closed his eyes at the light touch. "Yes," he conceded. "And many other things."

 

"Tell me?" he asked softly.

 

"Usual stuff," Q made a waving gesture with his hand, shaking his head. "Our safety most of all." And how useful he could be with his fingers like this, but with a new laptop in his possession now, he supposed it would only require effort from him to practice.

 

James smiled and wrapped an arm around him as they wandered across the bridge together. "I love you, baby..."

 

Q felt like the muscles in his cheeks were stretching for a bit from smiling too much in a short span of time, but it was all good anyway, moments like these. He'd do anything to keep it as it was for them, for James. The man had been through enough. "I love you, too..." he replied, leaning into James as they walked, the breezes from the Seine caressing their hair. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that," he admitted quietly and suddenly.

 

"You’re wondering when I am going to bolt, get drunk and sleep with some woman, aren't you?" James asked softly.

 

Q shook his head. The thought had, indeed, crossed his mind during one of his worse moments, when the thickening black mass threatened to cloud over his mind, but he knew, deep down, that such a thing wouldn't happen. "I know you won't do that to me, love," he said quietly, winding a hand to hold James close as well. "But I also know how difficult love and trust are for you..." He turned to look at the man. "So it just makes me really happy to hear you say that."

 

Bond smiled as they wandered. They went up the Arc de Triomphe, and wandered down the Champs-Élysées, having dinner on one of the most famous roads in Paris, before the night began to fall. “Should we head back to the hotel?” he asked, feeling slightly full from French food.

 

Q chuckled. "Sure." He was feeling _slightly_ tipsy after the wine the restaurant had served along with its courses. It had been an all around wonderful day, deserving every bit of the title of it being a honeymoon, faux or otherwise, of course. "Should we catch a taxi though?" he asked. "I haven't a clue how to navigate from here."

 

James chuckled slightly. "Does a taxi play into my romantic seduction routine?" he asked thoughtfully.

 

Q hummed. "Aston Martin or any other fancy cars you can get your hands on more like," he replied with glinting amusement. "But we have neither of those now, do we?"

 

James leant down and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Taxi it is... I can't be bothered with the metro..." He pressed a kiss. "I want to get you naked..."

 

Q scoffed a little when James said he couldn't be bothered with the metro, a wry smile on his lips. He made a tiny noise deep inside his throat that was lost in the stream of people, recalling James's joke on how they should leave the tourist's exploration for the morning, _if_ they had recovered from the night before. "Sentiment shared then," he whispered back, arm extending to call for a taxi from where they were standing on the pavement.

 

They got in and soon enough were back at the hotel. James waited until they got into the lift before pinning him against the mirror and kissing him senseless.

 

Senseless, truly, because by the time they had reached their floor and came stumbling out, Q couldn't quite think of anything past James Bond—the man who loved him and had even endured a physical checkup for him as well, no matter how much it unnerved and alarmed the man. His breathing was picking up by the time they managed to get back to their room and locked the door behind them.

 

How they got to their room, James would never fully know, but he pushed Q against it firmly, kissing hard.

 

Q moaned, his generally elevated mood from their day spent focusing on just them and their relationship was burning him up fast in a wave of euphoria. His arms scrambled to hold James close, closer, wanting to feel the man, every inch of his skin, as much as he could.

 

James slowed. No... He wanted to worship Q, to take him apart inch by inch.

 

Q shivered, his breathing coming out shaky at the sudden change of pace. But he didn't mind it and complied, taking this slowly would very much give him ample time to appreciate James more.

 

James broke the kiss and looked at Q. "Would you come to bed with me?" He whispered.

 

Q's eyelashes fluttered, the question was so soft, so tender that it almost seemed as though it was anything but a straight out invitation for him to come to bed. "Yes." He nodded, just a little dazed, and smiled. "I'd love to."

 

James hands were softly as he lifted Q's chin and cupped the side of his face... His touch ghosted over Q's face lightly and he kissed him.

 

Q inhaled a soft breath and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of James's calloused fingers tracing over his skin and how those lips meeting his halfway, gentle and achingly sweet. The kiss was unhurried and gradual, and they tasted one another on each other's tongue, the taste of wine and aroma of the food they had eaten and something else Q'd like to think was entirely unique to James as well.

 

Realization had dawned upon him that perhaps this was the first time they had taken everything at such a slow pace. It was beautiful all the same, and he appreciated it a lot.

 

Slowly, James toed off his shoes and backed Q slowly to the bed. One baby step at a time.

 

Q got his shoes off, too, and held on, not to steady himself but more of trying to keep close to James, to latch onto his warmth and the safe feeling that his arms provided. The smile on his lips never faded as he gazed lovingly at the other man.

 

James pushed Q to sit and then knelt in front him to take his socks off slowly.

 

The mattress sank under his weight, and Q watched as James removed his thick, warm socks for him. "Trying to spoil me some more, Monsieur Bond?" he teased in a sultry voice.

 

"I'd stop the world from spinning for you," he whispered, looking up at Q with earnest eyes.

 

Q reached out his hand to stroke James's cheek, chuckling softly. "I know," he whispered, shaken by the sincerity he could see in those eyes.

 

James surged up and claimed his mouth in a long, slow kiss.

 

Both of Q's hands went up to cradle James's strong and stubborn jaws now, his fingers ghosting over skin and dipping into the man's hairline. The languid kiss gradually encompassed his senses, and Q drew those lips between his own and nibble on them, pulling his lover closer and closer until they were slowly lying down onto the mattress.

 

He let Q take charge because Q needed to. He needed to find confidence with them, when James wasn't fucking his brains out against the wall. He did pause and offer a suggestion. "Shall we take this to the centre of the bed?"

 

Q chuckled, his fingers softly tangling into James's short hair, just playing. "I suppose we should." And he scooted backward, coyly capturing the collar of James's shirt between his index and middle finger, tugging gently, even though he knew that the man would follow him with or without the invitation.

 

James smirked and slowly crawled up over him, a panther stalking his prey.

 

Shivers traveled up his spine; it had never failed to hitch his breathing a little, seeing James like this—hungry and intense and absolutely intoxicating. Q licked his lips and smirked right back.

 

"What are you smirking at, Mr Sterling?" he purred.

 

Q's toes curled at the sound, one foot edging closer to brush at the side of James's calf gently, up and down. "Just relishing the fact that you're here, now, with me," he replied. "And yourself, Mr. Sterling?"

 

"That I get to make love to you all night until you can't take it anything more..." He whispered and dipped his head to kiss him.

 

Somehow, the way James had said, "make love," made him a little giddy as he lifted his head up somewhat to meet his lover's lips as well. "That sounds equally frightening and exciting at the same time, love," he chuckled softly.

 

Bond arched an eyebrow. "Frightening?" He asked softly. "Why frightening?"

 

"You'd be," he whispered, lips millimetres away from James's, close enough that he could feel the warm breaths of the other man fanning on his skin, "if you can see the predatory look you’re giving me right now." He smirked.

 

James grinned, wolfish. "What look is that?"

 

Q shivered, the proximity didn't help the sort of effects that grin had on him, and he made a small noise in the back of his throat. "Like you're going to devour me whole?" he offered, smirking despite the slight heat creeping up his face.

 

James laughed softly and pressed his lips to William's lightly. Feather light kisses.

 

William laughed a little, pulling James closer. It was strange when he thought about it, rewinding the events of the day inside his mind, because unlike other couples, they seemed to be doing things backward and had only had a proper, actual first date that day. And while that time when James had taken him out to the sea in his little boat to haul in a few lobster cages was very nice, it couldn't actually be counted.

 

But really, what was there about this situation, about them, that was normal anyway? Not to mention that 'normal' was overrated.

 

And he kissed James back.

 

James set about his exploration. He leant on one hand, while the other rested over Q's heart and he started to explore slowly. Kisses over his eyes, his lips, working down to his jaw and throat.

 

Q took off his glasses and placed one hand on the one that James had over his heart, letting his lover explore his body inch by inch. The kisses were tender and sweet; there was no urgency, no rush, and the look in James's eyes was almost smothering, stealing the breath away from his lungs—it was as if the only one who mattered in world was him, and him alone.

 

His heart picked up, and Q was certain James could feel this very clearly, as he moaned softly, nuzzling against the side of the man's face.

 

The wolfishness melted into something that was softer, more gentle. He turned his head and kissed Q when he tried to nuzzle, as if he was stealing the kisses away.

 

Q reciprocated easily, smiling into the kisses, and reached his other hand to caress James's cheek.

 

“Can I keep you?” Bond whispered. “When we get back… can I keep you?” he whispered in William’s ear.

 

"Who says that you can't, James?" Q whispered back, fingers running into the back of James's head, taking in a breath. "Did you think something else otherwise would happen?"

 

"Still wondering when you’re going to realize that you can do so much better than me," he whispered.

 

"I could say the same to you, love." Q's arm slipped down to James's back, holding the other man close. "You really don't realize how wonderful you are, do you?" His hold tightened. "Having you here with me... I can't ask for anything better."

 

"I just wish... that I protected you better..." James said in a very quiet voice.

 

"We went through this before, James," Q began, stroking up and down the man's strong back. "If I'm not allowed to think that I am at fault for not watching out for our security better—" Which remained the actual problem all along in his mind, "—then you're not allowed to think that you didn't protect me well enough, all right?" He sighed. "You protected me as best as you could, you still do, even without the memory of your training or anything else..."

 

He turned to press a kiss to the side of James's head. "You take care of me, you draw me out of my own head, and you make me feel very much loved and protected. What more can I possibly ask for?" A smile tugged at his lips. "I didn't even think I'd have the chance to feel like this before... and you gave it to me, love.”

 

James groaned and pressed his face to Q’s, knowing that he was right, that he could not have done anything more… but he still felt bad. He rolled and pulled Q up so that he was straddling him.

 

Q was a little taken aback by the manoeuvre, only because he hadn't seen it coming. But he regained his composure quickly enough, smiling a little and leaning down to capture James's lips. "You have to believe me, all right?" he whispered.

 

"I believe and I trust you," he said quietly.

 

"Good." Q gave a wide smile, pecking between James's eyebrows then his nose, both cheeks, chin, then back to his lips once more. "And you are a wonderful, gorgeous man."

 

James smiled as they kissed, his hands finding his shirt buttons. "And you are not naked... I should rectify this..."

 

Q chuckled, fingers going for the buttons on James's shirt as well. "Let's both rectify it then."

 

James shoved the shirt from Q's shoulders, leaning up to suck a bruise on his collarbone lightly.

 

Q let out a soft groan, grinding slowly down on to James's body.

 

James hissed, arching under him and pushed up as he reached for Q's belt.

 

The man's reaction made his smile turn a little impish as he lifted his hips up for James's hands to descend onto his belt, bracing himself on his arms, while grazing his teeth at James's neck.

 

James tilted his head back and once again, letting the lips move over his neck. He shuddered, and with several movements, Q's belt landed on the same pile, with his shirt following a moment later.

 

Q drank in James's reactions, which fueled his own actions, as he kissed the hollow of the man's throat, then licked and bit the clavicles. Despite the conditioned temperature, the air of the room held this distinct tinge of coolness in it, chilled by the beginning of the winter winds that blew outside in the Paris night, and it made Q shiver just for a bit, with his body heat climbing steadily as it was.

 

He removed James's belt and let it join the rest of the pile as well, descending on one nipple presented before his eyes.

 

James was whimpering, arching up in pleasure, allowing the shards of electric heat to soothe the worry, and he soon pushed Q down to kiss.

 

The pleasured noises rattled the cage of his ribs as his lungs expanded and contracted with every breath of air Q took, pumping oxygen into his quickly burning veins. One of his hands was over James's heart in the same gesture the man had done earlier to him, and he appreciated the increasingly rapid fluttering there, excitement building up between the two of them.

 

He moaned into the heated kiss, pressing his body down onto James for the proximity, or a lack of thereof, warmth, and leverage as his hands fumbled to push the man's trousers off of his hips.

 

James was doing the same, urgently pushing at Q's trousers, trying to get them out of the way. He moaned as Q's went down, and he hooked a foot to shove them off.

 

Q hissed when his trousers were quickly peeled off his legs as he hurriedly pushed James's down to his knees as well, working to have them go farther and reluctantly lifting himself up from his lover's body to quickly slip down to pull them off completely, flinging the pair away along with his in succession.

 

James sat up and tugged him closer, encouraging Q to wrap his limbs around him as they kissed.

 

And Q did without needing much prompting because it was entirely within what he planned on doing since the start anyway. He gave into the kiss, sighing and molding his body against James's, low groans bubbling up his throat.

 

James teased and touched him, kissing him deeply as they moved together. He leant out to reach for the lube, drawing it to him as he licked at Q's mouth.

 

Q moaned with James working his body up to a certain pitch of sensitivity and arousal, leaning in and following James even as the man moved away just for a bit to grab whatever it was that he was reaching for, their lips lingering onto one another. He chuckled at the teasing flick of the man's tongue, his hands moving up from the firm globes of James's buttocks, trailing along the hips slowly with a hint of his nails pressing into the flesh.

 

James slicked his fingers... And then arched his back, passing Q the lube, making an offer with it. The offer to pleasure each other at the same time.

 

Q bit his lips, watching as James deftly got some lube onto his fingers, and reached out to take it as well when offered, doing the same, heart beating a tattooing pace against his chest, smiling as he understood the implication.

 

There was a flickering sense of unease in James's eyes, almost a nervousness… but he pressed against Q, holding him and kissing, as his other hand slipped around and teased over his entrance… and slowly slid a finger into his lover, shifting so that Q could do the same.

 

It wasn't lost on Q, and he leant against James, nuzzling softly and soothingly, while doing nothing at all without proper prompting, giving the man ample opportunity to withdraw should he want to. He wouldn't mind it, honestly.

 

But that didn't come, Q let out a shaky breath at the breach into his entrance, even more so when James shifted to offer him the same. "Thank you, James," he whispered, lips just brushing against the shell of the man's ear, as he reached down, circling around the hole for a bit as well and pushing in, his breathing hitching a tad at the tightness that he met.

 

Bond froze at the blunt pressure that slid past the rung of muscles. His face pressed against Q’s neck, and he was very tempted to say no, stop, no more, that he could not take it… but he didn’t. He pressed against Q’s neck and pressed a hand under him slowly withdrawing his finger.

 

Q held James close, understanding the nervousness and hesitation all too well, his free hand soothing up and down the man's back. "Are you okay?" he asked in a whisper, not yet moving his finger as he tried to give James the necessary time to either say no, or adjust.

 

He nodded against his neck, but realizing that was not enough, nodded. “Yes…” James croaked. “I’m alright…”

 

Q pressed kisses onto James's shoulder, nibbling and sucking softly, slipping his fingers into the man's hair and massaging his scalp. He pushed inside that bit more, slowly, experimentally. "Are you sure?" he asked in a whisper again.

 

James was stiff, his eyes screwed shut. "Yes... I want to give this to you..." he whispered, and tilted his face to the man.

 

"Love," Q sighed. "Much as I'm honoured by your offer... don't push yourself. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can stop." He understood how greatly important this was, but with James so tense... he didn't want to make the man feel like he had to do any of this for him. "You've already given me more than enough."

 

James leant in and pressed a kiss to his shoulder as he took a deep breath and his body relaxed. "I want this, Q... I want to have this good memory..."

 

Q shivered, shaken for the second time during that short span of time since they had gotten back to the hotel alone, and held tightly onto James. "Okay," he whispered with just a slightly hint of tremor in his voice as he nodded. "If that's the case, then I have no reason not to oblige." And he began moving his finger, pushing in and out at a slow, firm pace first, trying to acquaint James with the sensation of penetration.

 

His head rested against Q, as he felt that finger start to move… in and out… and he slowly felt the tight muscles of the sphincter relax around the finger. He started to move for Q too, eyes closing… he groaned quietly as his free hand went between them and wrapped around both their erections.

 

Q hissed at the contact and allowed it to bleed into a needy moan; the tightness of James's hole and the provided friction were two wonderful stimulations. He pushed in farther, glad now that the man seemed to have relaxed, and crooked his finger, searching for that nub of nerves that would give James immense pleasure.

 

It took a moment, and James arched. The angle was awkward for them both, but Q hit home. “Fuck…” he cursed, shuddering.

 

It really was an awkward angle, but having long fingers helped with it a little, and Q shuddered along with James as the muscles in their bodies clenched in response to one another. Q grinned at the soft curse, withdrawing his finger and pushing in again at the same angle once more, increasing the pressure and speed this time.

 

James hissed and arched under Q's delicate finger. "Q..." He whispered, gripping him tight.

 

Q trailed kisses, bites, and nibbles interchangeably along anywhere he could reach, and repeated the thrusting motion for a few more times, giving James building pleasure by aiming for his prostate. "Second finger?" he whispered almost breathlessly, basking in the thrumming euphoria that was then coursing through James's veins, reveling in the fact that yes, they were indeed doing this after all.

 

By that point, Bond was nearly incoherent from need. He nodded, desperate and needy. "Yes," he had given up on stretching Q, he was barely able to hold onto him, let alone pleasure him.

 

"Okay," Q breathed, turning so he could capture James's lips once more, tasting and distracting at the same time as he timed his thrusts and pushed the second finger in past the man's quivering entrance. Honestly, he didn't think he would need much of any other stimulation himself—the keen noises that his lover was making, and the fact that James had allowed him to do this at all, were enough to send him to a blissfully ecstatic state.

 

He held tightly onto James, keeping their bodies from separating apart, and began moving both of his fingers, increasing the pace and force and scissoring them to continue stretching him out more.

 

James keened gently, clinging to Q... The intimacy between them was intense, his eyes closed and there was something behind them, tears that stung, and thrust against Q, into his hand, rubbing against Q's cock.

 

Q gasped, his hips bucking slightly into James at the sudden friction, breathing ragged and urgent. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the slight wetness that clung to James's eyelashes while he was closing his eyes shut. Heart pounding, he leaned in to press his lips at the fluttering lid, kissing the tears away.

 

His fingers curled desperately as he clung to Q, turning his head to kiss a him, gentle and soft. "I... Going... Please" He whispered, and let out a thready cry as came.

 

Q could feel James's climax approaching and was encouraging it by moving his fingers more vigorously, meeting the man's lips for another kiss. He shuddered when the white wash of an intense orgasm finally burst in James's system, the sheer pleasure adorning his lover's face was breathtaking as he committed it to his memory through wide, adoring eyes.

 

James sagged against Q, breathing hard. "Fuck... Oh God..." He panted.

 

Q chuckled, wrapping both arms around James's shuddering, boneless frame. "You did well," he whispered, kissing the shell of the man's ear.

 

"God..." He all but moaned, the orgasm leaving him sensitive and satisfied, and he let them both flop onto the pillows.

 

Q let out a sigh of contentment as they fell back onto the mattress, smiling widely at James and carding his fingers still through the man's short hair. "Thank you," he whispered again after a moment of silence, voice bearing every ounce of honesty that he possessed. He appreciated what had just transpired a lot. "For giving that to me, James."

 

James looked up at him and smiled. "I haven't finished with you, yet," he warned quietly. "I just need a few minutes," his body was wracked with tremors.

 

Q chuckled in a giddy moment, still high on euphoria and just a little bit on the few drinks they had while having dinner. "Don't worry," he purred in a playful, teasing tone even as his hand still smoothed up and down James's arm to soothe the visible spastic tremors. "I won't pressure you into keeping up."

 

He laughed out loud, a breathless laugh and rolled, pushing him down on the bed under him. "Keep up?" He questioned in a growl.

 

Q grinned, his eyes full of mischief and endearment for James... and smouldering desire. He let out a short, slightly quivering breath. "Am I wrong then, dear husband?" he challenged with a barely contained smirk.

 

He kissed him. Hard. Bordering on aggressive, but not quite, and he pressed against him. "Very, very wrong," he whispered as he rutted.

 

Q's breath was stolen away quickly and efficiently, the kiss sending his head into a pleasant, heady buzz again, as he groaned and arched into James. "I shall look forward to it then," he replied.

 

The slick fingers searched over him and Bond kissed down his body slowly. He sucked and licked and nibbled a path to his waist.

 

Q gasped, James's mouth hot and wet on his once again burning up skin and flesh, his body humming with renewed arousal, and he squirmed on the bed, his fingers and toes clutching to the bed sheets below.

 

James kissed past his arousal, deliberately ignoring it as he found the soft skin of inner thighs and moved down.

 

Q whimpered, recognizing the teasing taunt for what it was. "Should've drawn it out longer for you," he huffed halfheartedly, not actually meaning it, and uttered a small, pitched moan when James reached his sensitive inner thighs, muscles twitching reflexively under such attention.

 

"Another time," he growled, and bit down on the skin, hard , sucking until it bruised and kept heading south. "You’re gorgeous..."

 

His hips bucked, body jerking at the hard bite, as a small, sharp cry flew from his lips. Q let out a breathless laugh, feeling heat rushing up his face. James was about the only one who actually used that adjective to describe him.

 

"It's true," James breathed. "You’re gorgeous... Like a woodland creature... Delicate..."

 

His face burnt up that bit more, and Q smiled lovingly at James. "You speak too highly of me, love." He reached up, the tips of his fingers brushing at the man's cheek. "But thank you..."

 

James surged over him, almost animal in his movements as he kissed up Q's other side, deliberately ignoring the man's arousal, just explored him with narrow minded focus. "One day, you will get bored of me telling you how good you are..."

 

"You're evil," he whispered with feigned vehemence. His toes curled, and Q whined when James once more bypassed his erection, entirely ignoring it.

 

"Am I indeed," he said with a smile. "Dissatisfied, darling?"

 

Q didn't think his attempt at a growl was at all that intimidating, his breaths laboring. "Hardly," he replied as tartly as he could muster.

 

"Good," and with that, licked the head of his erection, slowly.

 

"Fuck!" Q cursed sharply, eyes screwing shut and body trembling with unadulterated pleasure, the feeling of James's dragging tongue over his slit made him see sparks.

 

"You’re not coming until I'm buried balls deep in you," he growled, filthy words leaving his lips.

 

And they had Q shiver in abandon, enhancing the coiling heat rooted in the pit of his stomach. "Can we speed up the process then?" he managed to find the breath to playfully tease and wiggle his hips suggestively.

 

He bit down on the bone of his hip, and licked over it. "Patience is a virtue," he replied.

 

Q hissed when James's teeth were on him again, the pain sharpening that edges of his building arousal. "A virtue that I don't necessarily practise." Q chuckled.

 

"Depends where you’re wanting me, baby..." He growled and reached up to slant his mouth over Q's.

 

Q moaned shamelessly into the kiss, sucking and nibbling urgently. "Would it be too vague if I say I want to feel as much of you as I can?" he whispered, the smirk morphing into a smile.

 

"You've felt quite a lot of me..." He breathed, nuzzling gently.

 

Gently, Q wrapped his arms around James, holding the man closer to him. "Not yet enough, to be honest." Because for a moment there back in that Godforsaken bunker, he had thought he was never going to have another chance to look at James, let alone touching or kissing him like this. Now, here once more... it was nothing short of a miracle.

 

"So what do you want to do to me?" He asked between sweet sweet kisses.

 

Q could hardly think between these kisses, but his fingers splayed and caressed James's skin, lips responding eagerly still to every touch, every contact and stimulation. "Anything..." he sighed. " Anything you want as long as we're together."

 

"I want to make love to you," James said quietly. "Is that okay?"

 

There was this sudden swelling in his throat, and Q swallowed down that lump while managing a soft smile. It was strange... he had no reservation handing such an offer over to James—mostly because he knew the man wouldn't abuse that sort of power... He wouldn't hurt Q. "Of course..."

 

Hands flexed over the body below him and James slid his fingers down to tease his entrance.

 

Q groaned, taking in a sharp breath as he tried not to squirm on the bed, swallowing, as he kept his eyes on James.

 

"I love you," the kisses were as sweet as the words as James kissed him lightly, slowly pushing a finger in. "I love you so much..." His hips pushed against him. "This is what you do to me..."

 

Breath hitched in his throat as Q molded his lips to meet James's gentle kisses, feeling every inch of the gradual penetration. "Oh God, I love you, too," he gasped breathlessly. So much so that the hollow of his chest ached just thinking about how they had come to not ever seeing each other again. "I love you a lot." He swallowed, trying to push down the lump his his throat and easing the stinging itch in his eyes.

 

"I know..." He spread his fingers in him and curled them slowly.

 

Q let out a shuddered breath, whimpering when James started stretching him for real and crooking his fingers inside of him. He pressed his face to the crook of his lover's neck, scrambling for air and that ever familiar, comforting scent.

 

"Ready for me?" He whispered after a time.

 

Q nodded almost frantically, the liquid fire in his veins flowing at too feverish a pitch for him to bother with either teasing or playing coy. He needed to feel James, right then, desperately so. "Yes," he gasped. "Please."

 

James gently sunk into him, eyes closing in a shudder.

 

Q let out a breath, the fullness and that distinct feeling of being filled to the brim rendered him shivering with sheer contentment and bliss. He gave a guttural groan, wrapping his arms around James much like a vine tree that clung to the side wall of a house... Even that description didn't seem to deviate too far from the truth.

 

James held onto him, his expression tender as he looked down at him. James pressed sweet kisses and oh, god it felt so much better with nothing between them. James rolled his hips slowly. "William..." he murmured.

 

It did, indeed, feel very good—the bare pulsing heat with no layer of latex in between—and William shuddered, his fingertips digging into James's skin and flesh, shots of pleasure coursing up his spines. "Yes, James," he breathed, kissing his lover's jaw softly.

 

James shifted his arms around him and slowly began to roll his hips in an easy rhythm. Back and forth. Back and forth. The friction between them was electric and he knew that he was panting, hard.

 

Q's pleasured noises gradually increased in its vigor and intensity, though he tried hard to keep them to a decent, moderate volume that would not leave these rooms. He scrambled to get as close as he could to James, legs hooking behind the man's back, and trembled under the shuddering hot breaths that were brushing over his sensitized skin, exciting his nerve ends even more. "James," he whimpered, lost in the euphoria.

 

"I have you," James whispered as a breathless response. His voice cracked as he groaned, shuddering hard. "God... I love you, Q," he silenced his own pleasure by kissing him hard.

 

Q drew in an almost sobbing breath, overwhelmed by this immense pleasure and the endearing words that James kept on whispering to him. He had never felt so loved and treasured in his life, and the mere thought it was wracking him apart. Him, someone's treasure, James Bond's treasure; it remained a nearly impossible concept to comprehend, yet so real and palpable at the same time that he could hardly breathe in the face of such force.

 

He let James's hard kiss encompass him whole and render him senseless; his thoughts and world were narrowing down to one point and one point alone: the man before him right then. And it felt glorious.

 

"I love you, too," he replied, voice breaking as he squeezed his eyes shut, not understanding the tears that were welling up inside them so rapidly and desperately right then.

 

James arched, sliding along that sweet sweet spot as a hand snaked around him and he began to stroke slowly.

 

Q gave a heady moan, writhing with unadulterated pleasure, while clinging tightly onto James, biting his lip, vision blurry before his eyes. But that was heightened to a sharp pitch when James began to stroke him. He cried out, all the muscles in his body burnt up with this molten heat that was driving him far too close to the edge. "James!" he gasped, pushing his hips up to reflexively thrust into the calloused contact of that hand.

 

James shifted, bodily lifting Q to him. His hips undulated and rolled, pressing in, sliding out sending shards of electric heat through him. "Q... Fuck..." He snarled against his lips as he kissed, the intensity threatening to make him white out.

 

Q felt the pressure building in his chest and the pit of his stomach as he couldn't quite stop himself from gasping and moaning wantonly, moving in a rhythmic motion to meet James's thrusting. "Christ..." he whimpered, shaking a little as he stuck out his tongue to flick at the shell of James's ear. "James..." His voice was hitching and chipping at the edges. "I think I'm going to—... Oh God, please..."

 

"Yess..." The agent all but snarled as he rolled his hips hard, pushing Q towards the blinding pleasure that threatened to swamp them both.

 

Q hissed, gasping loudly at that sharp role of James's hips, and cried out, clinging on for dear life and climaxing with a white flash of bursting pleasure.

 

Muscles clenched around him hard and a litany of curses exploded from his lips, and Bond followed after, losing himself in the body of his young man. His limbs gave way and he slumped over Q, incoherent.

 

Q gasped at the feeling of James pulsing and filling him up with hot spurts of release, body shivering in the wonderful, complete sensation that welled up inside of him. He let out a slow, guttural groan as he held the man's shuddering frame in his arms, hands running up and down in soothing, trembling circles, chest heaving in labored breaths. He could feel James's heart rapid beating against his own.

 

When his legs stopped feeling like jelly, James pulled back to look down at Q slowly. His lips curled into a smile and he looked down at Q.

 

"Hey, you," he whispered.

 

Q sighed and smiled widely at James, one hand going up to smooth over James's cheek. "Hello yourself," he whispered, clearing his throat a little.

 

"I've made you all hoarse," he said softly as his body slid away, and he lay at Q's side.

 

Q chuckled. "Yes, you did." Actually, he had sort of expected it himself. He edged closer to continue absorbing James's warmth, even if he knew it'd be a better idea if they made an attempt at cleaning up first. He was feeling a little too boneless and elated right then to arrange the proper order of actions right then.

 

After a few minutes where he warred with sleep and wake, Bond made himself stagger to the bathroom. He returned with a flannel and a towel before he cleaned them both up and threw them on the floor before climbing back into bed.

 

Q bit on his lower lip a little as he observed James work with languid eyes, drinking in the details leisurely as though enjoying a type of exquisite wine—no harm done in that actually, because James really was gorgeous as he was.

 

He pulled the man close the moment he was back to bed. "Thank you, love," he whispered, snuggling into that firm, solid chest and giving it a gentle, butterfly kiss.

 

James cocooned him, wrapping him up in long limbs as he stroked his hair gently, and held him. "Sleep, baby..." He whispered. " Sleep..."

 

"Hmm..." Q hummed, burrowing in and inhaling a lungful of James's scent. For a moment there, just as the stroking of his hair became too lulling, Q wondered if another reason behind all these efforts James had put into providing him with pleasure, aside from love, was because the man wanted to release him, albeit temporarily, from the dark clutches of these worries and fears that kept gnawing at his nerves even before Oberhauser's name popped up.

 

However, he was already verging too close to the edge of sleep right then to actually think about it anymore. "Goodnight, James," he whispered faintly, the words muffled and feathery against James's chest, as his eyelashes finally fell shut.

 

James smiled and felt the body resting on him become soft and pliable, James stretched his neck and closed his eyes.

 

"Good night, Q... Love you..." And with that, he was asleep.


	23. Chapter 23

It turned out to be quite a well-rested night for Q, the most he had had since the kidnapping. Of course, dark corners flashed—cruel, vile, and vicious—making him twitch and whimper a little. But James's presence served almost like a natural, wonderful sedation itself, and he was quieted soon enough, snuggling up once more with a sigh, much like an overgrown, touch-deprived cat. Only to James.

 

When Q awoke the next morning, James was awake, his closed eyes as he stroked Q's hair gently.

 

Q rose to consciousness with a stir and a deep intake of breath. At first he opened his eyes blearily to a quiet, sun-streaked room, nose pressed to James's collar bone, contented to the point where he didn't even realize there was a hand gently stroking his hair.

 

Until, of course he did, and he slowly looked up at the man, not moving another inch just so their bodies could stay as they were—flush against one another. He smiled, and whispered, "Good morning, love."

 

James's lips crept up into a small smile, and his hand stopped moving, coming to rest on his shoulder. They had barely moved in the night.

 

"Hello, gorgeous," he said quietly.

 

Q pursed his lips almost as if trying to stop the smile stretching on his well-kissed lips. "Still insistent about that, I see," he whispered and kissed James's chest.

 

"You are," he said softly. "Especially when your lips are swollen like they are..." 

 

Q’s cheeks felt a little hot. "Well, _someone_ had a penchant for kissing them," he drawled before smiling and leaning up to press a chaste kiss onto James's lips despite his own words. "Not that I mind, of course."

 

"You have sex hair," James mused, chuckling softly.

 

Q hummed. "As if you don't." He grinned, his fingers carding softly through James's hair. "And my hair is perpetually messy anyway, so I can live with it."

 

Bond ran a hand through his hair lightly and he smiled warmly. "Did you enjoy last night?" He asked softly.

 

Letting out a soft sigh of contentment and leaning slightly into James's touch, Q returned the smile in kind. "Absolutely," he replied. And he had enjoyed all of their encounters anyway, each bearing a different type of energy and pace that exhilarated and excited him in various ways. "And you?"

 

"I love it, Q," he said softly. "I absolutely love you," he said softly. "I want you to know that..."

 

Q swallowed, something hot and sentimental coiling in his chest, and nodded. "I know, James," he whispered. "I love you, too... completely and entirely." He could even go so far as to say irrevocably as well, even.

 

James dosed, and for a while he thought that he was going to fall asleep. He shivered though and opened his eyes. "Should we move?"

 

Q looked at James during all that time, tracing all the lines and contours... almost desperately so for some reason. He closed his eyes and nodded. "We should," he whispered. The thought of Oberhauser possibly lurking was unwittingly winding him up again, and he hated feeling so vulnerable and exposed to these temperamental emotional attacks.

 

James detected something... some worry in his tone and looked down at Q. "What is it?" He asked softly.

 

"Thoughts," Q drawled with a playful chuckled, smiling and leaning to peck James on the nose again. "Nothing's wrong." Aside from him becoming more of an erratic, emotional creature that he wasn't supposed to be, of course. Logic, sensibility had always remained at the core of his being, and he would rather they stayed where they were supposed to be. He could manage this without bothering James. He could manage himself, of all things.

 

"Tell me what thoughts?" James asked softly.

 

Q turned to cradle his glasses into his hand, if only to avoid James's eyes for a moment, before slipping them on, nearly relieved to finally have the world focused once more before his eyes—all short blonde hair and striking, icy blue chips.

 

"Just our safety, is all," he replied in general, directing his gaze away, looking to his right where the light from the windows was filtering in through the curtains. "I'm sorry." Somehow, it felt like he had ruined a perfectly good morning mood.

 

James hooked a leg over him. "Hey..." He said as he drew him back to him. "Why are you saying sorry?"

 

Q swallowed thickly, leaning into James and taking a shuddering breath. "Because I'm being the emotional wreck that I usually am not and have probably ruined the mood for us?" he replied with a shaky laugh.

 

He hummed a delighted sound. "Honey, I highly doubt that you could ruin it for me..." He purred.

 

Something inside of him unwound at the unexpectedly delighted hum, the purring quality of James's voice and words easing over him almost like a security blanket. Q chuckled a little weakly and tightened his hold. "If you say so," he whispered, pausing briefly, then continued, "You really are a wonderful man."

 

He snorted. "No, I'm not," he said with a smirk. "I’m just the man whose heart you stole."

 

Q sniffed, but the quirk of his lips turned into something that was tinted with both pride and triumph. He placed a hand on James's chest, right over where his heart was beating ever so steadily and strongly, then splayed it out, pressing into the warm, thrumming skin and flesh below. "I don't intend on returning it, you know..." He managed a playful, cheeky grin, his fingers beginning a gentle wave of rapping. "I'll keep it safe... as long as you keep mine safe."

 

James made a gesture of closing his fist, as if he was capturing his heart and pressed it against his own as if two hearts could beat together.

 

Q couldn't help the foolish giggle that escaped his throat, biting his lip again as though it could stop the pulsing heat that spread all over his face at the gesture, embarrassment and elation streaming in his veins. "God, James," he breathed, sliding his arms around the man's neck. "Cheesy and adorable. I like that." He chuckled.

 

Grinning like a fool, James pressed a kiss to his hair, his jaw and his neck before pulling away to look down at him. "Last night was one of the best nights of my life," and he meant it. Perhaps not for the sex—Q didn't have much experience—but because James had never felt so wanted or needed.

 

Q listened, hanging on every word and feeling a distinct tightness in his throat. The fingertips of his hand traced along the contour of James's cheek, allowing the weight of all that sincerity to sink in and settle down underneath his skin. "Mine, too," he whispered, a sudden, somewhat shy smile unfurling on his lips. "Thank you, James—" Not just for the night alone, "—for everything."

 

"Always," he said softly and kissed his hair, holding him to his chest. "Now shall we get up? We can do the tourist thing and get the train home tomorrow?"

 

_Always._

 

Q smiled at the word and nodded against James's chest. "Yes, get up, do tourist thing, and get the train home." He was glad, very much so, that no plane or any sort of aircraft was involved into their traveling this time because he was certain that James would have to either drug or sedate him altogether to actually get him to board one... There was another ample reason for him to stay away from such a thing now other than his own from before. "Sounds like a good plan."

 

James grinned and kissed his lips lightly. "I want to get you somewhere where I can keep you safe and warm..." He said and hesitated. "Am I over protective?"

 

Q smiled and shook his head. "No... not when I want to do the same myself." He chuckled, but it was true. These bastards kept on threatening to hurt James again all the time, and he was growing sick of it. They had to find a way to bring Spectre down, or this nightmare of constant running and looking over their shoulders would never end.

 

He ran his nose along the length of Q's jaw, nipping his shoulder lightly. "Baby... I don't want you to feel you have to stay with me when we get to London. You have a home... You have Twist..."

 

Q swallowed, shivering not just because of the nipping on his shoulder alone, and shook his head urgently. "I want to stay with you, James," he replied determinedly. "It's not an obligation... really... And Twist... she's got Sarah, my neighbor... She wouldn't mind, and I can, I can pick her up later." His toes curled. "I told you: we can stay like this. Together." Q was aware that his voice had become quiet, small, again.

 

"I don't know... Is that all you want? I have nothing to offer you..."  James said softly.

 

Q leaned up to kiss James's cheek with a sigh. "It's not about you having anything to offer me or not, James, you know that," he replied, equally just as quiet. "Besides, you have everything to offer me..." His hand over the man's heart splayed. "I just... I want us to be safe, and together."

 

Bond looked down at him and slowly nodded. "When all this is over... Perhaps we can still see each other..."

 

Q stared, his mind, for once, not processing this fast enough. Or maybe it was just straight out refusing to. "What do you mean?" he whispered.

 

"Would you like to see me again? When all this is over? Like... a steady relationship?"

 

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Q licked his lips, but relieved at any rate, because he didn't think he would take well to James even suggesting that they shouldn't be with one another. Not at all. "Of course I want to have a steady relationship with you, James... I'm not... I'm not the kind of person that would use you for temporary comfort and safety then turn my back on you once everything ends."

 

James looked down at him. "Sweetie... I'm not daft. I know that it’s not recommended... being in a relationship with someone like me..." He said quietly. "I know that's not the way that it's done..."

 

"Someone like _you_? What's wrong with—" Q sighed. "Love, if anything I should be the one to say that. All right?" His hands slipped up to cradle James's face between them. "Since when have you conformed to social normality, anyway?" Then, he paused briefly, rolling the words on his tongue. "As long as you want it, we can make it work." And if James truly, absolutely didn't want it... Q would let go. Theoretically, it was as simple as that.

 

"I don't remember much of MI6..." James said quietly. "But... I know that I am not considered the best of company..." Lips curled into a smile. "But let’s make this work, yeah?"

 

"Only because you had a blatant disregard for authorities and caused lots of troubles in your wake." Q smiled, stroking James's cheek slowly, pleasantly, nodding in relief. "Yes. We shall make this work."

 

James kissed his nose and rolled out of bed, stretching slowly before going to the shower.

 

Q watched James leave, a turmoil of emotions brewing in his eyes, and turned away after biting back a sigh to reach for his new laptop. He needed to erase James's record at the clinic the day before anyway, and Q pursed his lips. He'd see if he could still manage hacking at the same pace as he had been before or not, even if this technically shouldn't pose much of a problem. Technically.

 

*

 

James had a long hot shower and a long hot time with his fist to ease some tension, and came out with a towel around him, beaming at him.

 

Q registered neither the bright beam nor the fact that James had come back into the room because he was too busy trying to keep the string of curses down to a minimum under his breath. He had half a thought of flinging the laptop to the floor, but refrained because the one that was having a problem was not the machine. It was him.

 

"Fuck," he hissed, typing in the last few lines of codes.

 

"Q?" James sat down beside him... When he got no response, he closed the lid of the laptop.

 

Honestly? Q hadn't seen that coming. At all. "James!" he nearly shouted. "What the f—! Why did you do that for?!" His fingers were shaking, but he was making for the laptop again to pry the lid open.

 

"What’s wrong?" He asked urgently, his voice worried.

 

It was just wrong. So wrong. He hadn't realized the state his fingers were in until he started typing, _hacking,_ for real. The swelling in his relocated joints had even settled down with James essentially coddling him for a week on that train ride, but now...

 

_Calm down. Calm down._

 

He swallowed, closed his eyes, and took in a shuddering breath. "I was... I was breaking into the clinic's record system." The lid finally opened again, and Q bit his lip, staring at the screen. "It's... it's nothing." _Breathe_. "I just need to finish it."

 

Closing his eyes, he nodded and started to dry and dress before he pulled on the clothes and sat behind him. James Bond unceremoniously dragged him back into his lap.

 

Q's breath hitched for a bit, his body rigid and stiff, but didn't fight it, still trying to keep his focus on the task at hand. It was supposed to be child's play. Should have been. But it wasn't anymore because it hurt to type quickly, and now gradually bending his fingers alone started becoming painful, too.

 

No, this was not good. They had Spectre to bring down... and this... no. That wouldn't be happening any time soon with him like this.

 

When the final line of code was entered, he watched as all remaining traces of him having even been there disappeared in a matter of seconds, withdrew from the system, before slapping the laptop shut for real and pushing it to the side. Q pulled his thighs pressed to his chest, elbows propped on his knees, and face buried in the crook of his arms.

 

 _Useless._ Holderbaum's voice whispered in a taunting, singsong voice. _You're useless now._

 

"Q..." He had withdrawn, pulled away from Bond, and shut him out. James tried not to let the panic and the worry it caused show in his tone. "William... Don't shut me out..."

 

_I know you're thinking about my words even though you pretend like you aren't._

 

 _Consider it,_ Quartermaster _. Looks, charms, body... skills, now, even—you have none of those._

 

_Never did._

 

 _So what is drawing him to_ you _?_

 

"Q..." William muttered suddenly, his voice a monotonous lull. "That stands for Quartermaster, the head of Q-branch in MI6." He used to take pride in that. And now? Injuries would heal, yes; dislocated, broken fingers would heal... But they needed him to be on his top game right then, right at that moment, and he couldn't... he couldn't give that to them, to James. He couldn't give that to anybody, frankly.

 

What a joke.

 

"I'll take a shower, too," he whispered, the perfect non sequitur.

 

"William," his hand clamped on his wrist. "Don't close me out..." He said quietly.

 

Q felt heat spreading hotly from the nape of his neck, shame and anger flaring at his core like molten iron, and he tried pulling away. "I'm not, James," he replied, not meeting the man's eyes, knowing just how piercing they could be. It was the icy shade of blue that James's eyes had, he knew, that made the gaze so stripping and disarming... like they could just read into a person's mind without qualms.

 

And right then, he didn't particularly fancy the idea. No. Dark thoughts, the vicious voice of Holdebaum, and so many other venomous things were swirling in there for him to lay them bare in front of James like that.

 

James watched him for a while, watched as a war went through Q's mind, and watched as he fought it. James did the only thing that he could think of and when Q tried to pull away... He let him go. "Be quick, love," he said quietly.

 

"Thank you," William breathed and shakily scurried away into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wooden frame and tried for air. It wasn't until he had managed to regain a bit of his bearing and lessened the dangerous shake in his legs that he finally made his way toward the shower and turned on the shower head.

 

The hot water sent a shock through his cold body, and William squatted down under the sprays, letting them wash over him in seemingly never ending jets.

 

He realized he hadn't taken off his glasses after a while of water and steam rising, and when he reached for it, they fell to the floor with a clatter that almost startled him.

 

James waited outside and he paced... Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, trying... just trying to make sure that Q was okay without crashing in. He loitered.

 

*

 

Eventually, William did drag himself out of the shower once his skin had turned rather sensitive under the constant hot water that had been probably turned on a little too high. He shoved the glasses onto his face again haphazardly, tried to steady himself enough to grab a towel, and draped it around himself. He opened the door quietly, remaining just short of the threshold because he was still dripping wet.

 

James's pacing outside ceased, and William felt that bit more awful.

 

"Hey," he whispered, toes curling and one foot rubbing against the other, his gazed fixed to James's own feet.

 

Crossing to him, James lifted his chin and pressed a slow kiss to his lips lightly. It was a slow, sweet kiss, chaste and quick at the same time.

 

"Hey baby," he whispered.

 

William shivered and swallowed, his eyes drifting somewhere to James's left shoulder, and tried pulling the towel that bit tighter around him. "Can you please... help me?" he began quietly. "With my fingers I mean..." He couldn't very well wrap them up himself.

 

He looked down at the two crooked ones. "Why did we not get these checked when we were at the clinic yesterday?" He mused.

 

"We forgot," William replied, looking at his fingers himself. Aside from the two crooked, broken ones, the rest of them were hurting, too, and he hated it. He hated Holderbaum, and maybe he hated himself as well. "Sorry..."

 

"You’ve nothing to be sorry for," James said as he carefully drew Q over to sit down on the bed so he could look at the wounds and repackage them.

 

"Though I don't think it would have been a good idea to come in and ask them about it anyway," William whispered. "What would we have said? That I jammed both my hands into the door?" He laughed mirthlessly, the sound a little jagged, before clicking his mouth shut. "I'm still sorry for bothering you with this... it must be tiring."

 

"Shh..." Bond pressed a finger to his mouth gently. "Hush, love..." He said quietly. "You have nothing to be sorry for... And you are not tiring, okay?" Bonds fingers rose to his cheek bone lightly. "Do you understand me?"

 

 _No_. Q was tempted to say. What part of this was not tiring? Him with his emotions all over the place, rising and falling quicker than the tides themselves? But he leaned into James's touch like a anyway, like a stray yearning for affection and warmth... ripping it from the man, more likely than not.

 

And so he nodded wordlessly, gut twisting and throat tightening painfully.

 

James said nothing, and wrapped both arms around the younger man, holding him tight. "Talk to me, Q..." He said softly. "Let me try and understand..."

 

William shuddered into James's arms, protective and strong and so loving. Maybe too loving. "Not much to talk about, James... All I could ever do properly was hacking, and now..." he trailed off with a shrug, screwing his eyes shut.

 

James mouth pressed to his forehead lightly. "Sweetheart... You've always done a lot for me... Just because you’re healing doesn't mean I, or anyone else, will think less of you because you got hurt..." Bond’s fingers trailed through dark wet strands, and he lifted his chin. "I love you... I love you even more because you’re still fighting. It's hard, I know... But you’re still here baby..." He whispered.

 

Feeling bare and vulnerable under those eyes, William was trying not to drown into those pools. The intensity inside James's gaze was almost smothering, and he whimpered, listening to the words and clinging to them like a lifeline. "But I... I can't do anything useful for you properly now," he whispered, voice thick and wavering. "I can't... it's hacking... The only thing I essentially excel at, and how can we be safe now that I can't wipe the CCTV well enough? I even got us into this in the first place when my hands were fine, and that's just ridiculous..."

 

_Breathe... Breathe..._

 

His body trembled in James's arms, almost as though everything would have gone bursting at the seams if the man hadn’t been there to literally, physically, hold him together like this. They had gone through this before, but the string of thoughts was unrelenting just as much as it was devastating, and he couldn't stop it from swirling in his mind. He really couldn't. They needed to be safe, as safe as they could be; they needed to bring down Spectre—all of which he couldn't give them right then, especially the former one; he had been failing at it since the start.

 

William leant in his arms, and James ran his hands up and down his arms lightly and kissed his hair gently. "You excel at loving me, which is your most essential job," he said quietly and put a hand over his chest. "At least, that's how I feel."

 

Somehow, that managed to get a sudden laugh out of him, and William shook his head. "You make it sound like I'm a househusband or something," he whispered, clinging on to James, willing himself to feel the man's heart to calm himself down. "I just... I just want to protect you, too..."

 

"You love me..." James looked down at him. "You give me reason to keep going, to keep fighting... Because I think that we have something that's special... We... could make something special here..."

 

Wonderment shone in his eyes as he looked up at James; everything else had eased into a stop at those words. Something special... "I love you," he whispered with a soft nod, like trying to confirm the fact, and swallowed. He'd love to think they had something special, too; it was all he had right then to keep him anchored down. "I think so, too..."

 

He pulled him into his arms and kissed his hair. "I love you... I'm not going to let you go. Understand me?" He said softly.

 

Q shivered, inhaling sharply as he leaned into James and nodded. "Understood." He slipped his arms out and tightened them around the man, too.

 

James's fingers touched his lips lightly. "Better?" He asked quietly.

 

Mutely, William nodded, feeling a little like a miserable, wretched person for having a melt down every other few hours like this. He sniffed and pursed his lips. "Let's get changed and go sight-seeing again..." he suggested quietly. "I want to spend the last day of our honeymoon well, husband mine."

 

"Do I need to hug and kiss you senseless first?" He asked and nuzzled his jaw gently.

 

"A hug, maybe," William sighed. "But if you kiss me senseless, I'm afraid our little outing time may have a chance of getting shortened as a result." He let out a soft chuckle, bandaged fingers slipping into James's hairline, and he tried to spin dark thoughts away from the forefront of his mind.

 

James pulled his lover across his lap so he was straddling him. "I wouldn't complain..."

 

He wrapped his arms around his lover, taking in his scent with a shuddering breath. "I know..." He smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of James's neck. The laptop was still there on the bed, and he was pointedly not looking at it. Right then, it was better this way, for the both of them.

 

James wrapped his arms around Q, and he was still, running a hand up and down his spine lightly.

 

William sighed, leaning against James, hoping his weight and lanky frame weren't too uncomfortable to have pressed against.

 

It took a while, but he eventually relaxed as the myriad of swelling thoughts eased out and dulled around the edges, sinking back into the depths of his consciousness. "Thank you, James," he whispered, lips against the man's warm skin.

 

James sat back and looked at him. "Ah... There is the man that I know and love..." He said quietly.

 

Q bit on his lower lip a little before smiling ruefully at James. "I needed to hide for a bit," he whispered in reply, his hand tracing the man's cheek, and kissed him between the brows.

 

James smiled and tapped his shoulder lightly. "You always have a place here where you can hide, baby..." He said quietly. "Always... Can we go have fun now?"

 

Q hummed, tilting his head to the side and kissing where James had just tapped his shoulder. "A very reliable place." He drew back and nodded. "Yes, let's. I want to film you more as well."

 

He snorted quietly. "Why do you want to film me?" He asked softly as they stood.

 

"Because just rewinding all of this back in my mind alone isn't fun," Q replied with a playful smile as he went to the bag of clothes they had been provided with and started fishing out the necessary clothes for their trip outside. "I like physical evidence anyway."

 

James chuckled softly and inclined his head. "Fair enough... If that is what works for you then I will do it and try and not humiliate you too badly, husband mine," he teased.

 

"How is humiliation involved in this again?" Q asked with one eyebrow raised, lips quirking in amusement as he put on his pants and shirt.

 

"By me posing and kissing you senseless and lots of silly photos at every opportunity."

 

"Ahh," Q breathed, zooming in on the conversation wholly so he wouldn't pay too much attention to the fact that he was fumbling a little with the buttons of his shirt. "But, darling, I don't mind any of that at all." He grinned foolishly despite the tint of heat in his cheeks.

 

"Good," and James leant over and took a photo of Q, using the phone that Q had, and burst out laughing at the expression on his face.

 

It was that deer-in-the-headlights look again, out of sheer surprise of course, and Q's face burnt at the laughter that came erupting from James. "You sly man," he muttered, reaching for the camera and snatching it as quickly as he could, and turned it back onto the man, snapping a photo of his lover mid-laughter. "Uh huh," he grinned, sniggering a little.

 

He grabbed Q and extended an arm, turning the camera to face them both. "Smile," he chimed as he pulled a face.

 

Q laughed for at the faces James pulled for the first two photos or so before swallowed that down and began pulling silly faces for the camera himself. By the end of it, they were both breathless with laughter, and Q discovered that he hadn't even put on his trousers just yet, and really, that actually was a rather 'humiliating' moment. He thought to himself, hobbling into a pair with a smile plastered to his face.

 

He watched Q, still breathless with laughter, pull on his trousers and James got his socks on. "Come on, you. Let's go have fun," he said as he extended a hand.

 

Q grabbed his coat and slipped them on before accepting James's hand, giving it a tentative squeeze along with a nod. And they left the hotel.


	24. Chapter 24

They left the hotel and vanished out into Paris, finding a nice little cafe where they could share a continental breakfast.

 

It was a light but overall nutritious and satisfying breakfast—an excellent choice on James's part because Q was rather sure he wouldn't be able to handle much of anything heavier, even if he was actually very calm right then. The café was tucked away in a corner, so there weren't many guests about (that, and maybe because they had just missed the morning horde), the light smell of coffee and pastries wafting in the cozy, warm air with songs alternating between ones he had heard before to ones he hadn't in the background.

 

But the high, long notes the female lead was hitting were sad and resonating.

 

He was offering James a bit of strawberry when he heard something.

 

"Go on. What’re you doing?" Out of curiosity, he looked over to see the two waitresses that had just served them a while back talking, the black-haired discussing a bit heatedly with her brunette friend, seeming rather embarrassed for some reason, and were looking over here to him and James. He hadn't a clue what they were saying though, but it sounded a bit like an Asian language of sort. "I volunteered to approach the other couple last time already, so it’s obviously your turn now."

 

Somehow, they finished with the brunette saying, "I hate you." But the petulant flush in her face didn't quite convey the expression that well.

 

And suddenly they were heading over to his and James's table.

 

"Uhm... S-sirs?" The brunette spoke up hesitantly, her voice slightly pitched with nervousness. "We are sorry to interrupt your meal, but... our shop has this new dessert, and we're wondering if you'd like to give it a go?" She handed him a flyer with the photo of a glass bowl filled with some sort of blue water (soda?) and ice cubes, and two very detailed, beautifully made koi fish just right at the surface, seemingly twirling into each other.

 

"It's koi fish in a bowl, sirs," she continued, just a bit more confidently than before not that she had caught their interest. "Jelly koi fish, of course, with light creamy Swiss cheese in the middle and soda."

 

Q blinked, turned to James, and whispered, "What do you think?" Honestly, he was feeling amused and impressed by the picture in the flyer at the same time.

 

James looked at him and smirked a little. "I'm game if you are," he said with a coy smile.

 

"Prat," Q muttered fondly, not fooled by the coyness for even one second. But it seemed like the girls were, and well, what else was to be expected. This was still James Bloody Bond with or without his memory; he could be damn alluring even when he wasn't trying to be.

 

Somehow, that amused Q that bit further.

 

"Why not," he said finally, handing the brunette back her flyer with the most charming smile he possessed. "We'll try it."

 

"T-thank you, sir!" Said brunette, Amy as her name tag indicated, nodded with a flustered look. "We'll return with your dessert soon."

 

"It's our recommendation for couples, too, sirs," the dark-haired girl, Carol, spoke up finally, receiving a playful swat from her friend. And they retreated quickly, looking very pleased.

 

James smiled at the woman, and he was all charm despite the fact that his foot was hooked around Q's, it seemed as if the woman had his full, undivided attention. "It was very kind of you to suggest it.”

 

Carol flushed, and Q nearly couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes. He reached out his other foot and pressed it against Bond's own casually, leaning onto the table on both of his forearms, fixing his glasses, and tilting his head just slightly to the side. "Yes, it seems like a fantastic idea that you've come up with here," he continued James's words, seemingly bright and open, knowing he hadn't the sort of charm that his man possessed.

 

"Thank you," Carol said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears, clearly flustered, although he wasn't sure with whom, or what, she was more flustered about. "We were experimenting with the jelly to combine with milk tea until we switched the direction up a little."

 

The hairs on the back of Bonds neck prickled. "Switched the direction?" He asked, and his eyes flicked to Q. Would he pick up on James’ sudden unease?

 

"Oh yes," Carol nodded. "We switched to soda instead of milk tea to freshen up the taste and sort of used opaque jelly rather than the clear one so the koi fish would look more solid. It brings out their scales more that way, we think."

 

Q wasn't paying full attention though, because James... there was a pause in James that made him turn and look at the man, wondering if he had been going overboard with his playful teasing or not.

 

James gave the woman a thin lipped smile and nodded to indicate that she was now dismissed.

 

Carol smiled with a nod and went away, having been serving long enough to know when best to retreat.

 

Q turned back to James with worries clouding his expression. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

 

"Just wary," Bond said quietly to his lover as he sipped his coffee. "Paranoid, probably too..." He added thoughtfully.

 

"You think there's going to be a problem?" Q asked quietly. "If so, we can pay and leave..." he suggested.

 

"It's just the way they came over to us," he said quietly. "All shifty and nervous... Am I just being paranoid?" He mused.

 

"It's hard to say..." Q mused himself. "Because if they were planning on drugging us, they would have acted more smooth... but it may all be just a ploy... even though a café is just a bit too random." Conflicting points, it seemed. He shrugged with a slight frown. "Wouldn't it have been less obvious to just... put something in the food rather than an offered, optional drink at the end?"

 

James shivered and nodded slowly at that. "I suppose you’re right," he said slowly, frowning a little. "Paranoid..."

 

Q pursed his lips and edged closer to the man, taking his hand in his bandaged one. "It's for our safety," he whispered, thumb tracing the hardened knuckles lightly. "We can still leave." He brought the hand up to press a kiss to it. "I don't think it would be a problem."

 

He paused... and shook his head.  "You’re likely right..." he said quietly.  "Let’s enjoy ourselves. I’m curious..."

 

"I may be wrong, too..." Q said quietly, though he sighed and leaned against the man nonetheless. "But yeah, I'm curious myself how this jelly thing is going to work out."

 

The waitresses came back, and he straightened up, leaving his hand where it was over James's. Carol was clearing away the dishes for Amy to put their drink down. It looked just as beautiful as the photo on the flyer had been that included two bubble tea straws and two long metal spoons.

 

"Thank you," Q said with a small smile.

 

They were blushing again. "We're sorry for acting so flustered," Amy said suddenly. "You just look very good together is all." And it was Q's turn to feel a little hot in the face; they really weren't exactly trying to hide the fact that they were together after all, were they? "We'll excuse ourselves. Enjoy!"

 

Bond arched an eyebrow at that and frowned a little and looked down at his desert. "It does look spectacular," Bond said as his spoon to cut through to the fish.

 

"Fangirls," Q muttered in amusement under his breath and turned back to James with soft hum. "It certainly does." The spoon cut through the fish easily enough and the cheese inside was creamy and smooth. He took his own spoon and dived it to the bottom of the round, glass bowl and retrieved one of the small, colorful beads. This one was white, and he blinked before popping it inside his mouth experimentally. "It's yogurt," he whispered, fishing out another one for James. They were popping boba.

 

Leaning forward, he nipped the yoghurt from the spoon. He made a small noise and his eyes closed. "This is good... Really good..."

 

"It is..." Q breathed. Surprisingly, even the jelly didn't seem out of place among the sparkly blue soda and the popping boba with their fruity, yoghurt taste. Then he suddenly remembered something. "You know, in mythology, koi fish are said to turn into dragons once they have managed to swim upstream and jump over the waterfalls."

 

He raised an eyebrow at that and took another spoonful of it. "Well, as long as it doesn't turn into a Dragon in my stomach," he said with a smirk.

 

Q laughed, nudging playfully at James. "It _means_ that koi fish signify the power to overcome obstacles, and the ability to transform oneself." His eyes trailed to the seemingly swimming fish in the bowl. "It may also mean passionate love as well." And somehow, that made him smile.

 

"Symbolic to you, especially," he said quietly. "After all you have achieved... You’re still fighting..."

 

Q smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to James's cheek. "And you, too, love," he said. "We're both still fighting. And we... we're going to overcome these obstacles together." He squeezed James's hand.

 

Bond blinked slowly as he looked down at the pudding. His hand was shaking... The spoon fell. "Q... Get out of here..."

 

His eyes widened, but it was already too late. His head turned just enough to see the two waitresses down on the ground, along with other few patrons of the café. "J-James..." It was the last thing he managed to mutter, hand squeezing his lover's own, before his vision blurred and everything zoomed into darkness.

 

_Stupid. Stupid. Why didn't you listen to him?_

 

James made an a sound as a face came to view... And his eyes closed, and he slumped back into the chair.

 

*

 

Something was touching his face, echoing over with a voice. At first, it felt like a distant touch, until it grew louder and closer, until Q actually felt another slap struck right across the face.

 

He gasped and spluttered, the burn in both cheeks intensifying with every second he was awake.

 

There was a laugh that froze everything inside of him though... because he knew that laugh—he'd recognize it anywhere.

 

"Hello, sleeping beauty. Rise and shine."

 

Holderbaum appeared in his blurry vision, and Q felt like throwing up.

 

Holderbaum grinned and sat down in a chair opposite Q. "Good morning," he purred.

 

Of course, his hands and ankles were once again bound, and God, Q could feel his heart pounding loudly in his chest once just by the sheer sight of this bastard sitting down right across from him, not even a foot away. He resisted the urge to shiver, clenching his jaws tightly as his face twisted in contempt. "Where's James?" he asked, a turmoil of emotions crawling underneath his skin.

 

"James is having a nice chat with a familiar face," he said, smiling. It didn't stop as a scream rang out from somewhere in the building.

 

Q's eyes shot to where he thought the scream was coming from, his body seizing up and stomach churning in the most sickening of ways. He felt cold all over, the ice spreading like frost on a wet, rainy day. "Let him go," he said, squeezing his eyes shut briefly to override Holderbaum's horrible expression. "Let him go... you've hurt him enough already."

 

"When Blofield flew to France just to pay James Bloody Bond a visit?" He smiled a little. "That won't be happening... But you knew that..."

 

A muscle in his face twitched. Of course Q knew that. He knew it all too well because the sort of things they had done and were doing to them right then, all this teasing and taunting... It was all too personal to be let go so easily. No.

 

So Q took in a deep breath and spat into Holderbaum's face.

 

Holderbaum sighed and wiped the spittle from his face... And then surged forwards, knocking Q's chair back into the floor. The man delivered a swift blow to his ribs, and then pressed a boot over his skull. "You know... I wonder what would happen if we drilled your brain... Could you forget him? I bet he will forget you..." The pressure grew.

 

Q fell back with a hiss, the frame of the chair digging into his bones and flesh. _Here we go again_ , the thought flashed briefly across his brain. Holderbaum's knuckles collided with his ribs with enough force to not only rattle but fractured the healing ribs once more. He cried out, chest heaving in pain and pumping adrenaline. "Fuck off," he snarled. "Fucking lowlife. If you want to kill me, just get it over with!"

 

He sighed. It was a dramatic sound, and he rolled his eyes. "As much as I would like to... I have orders. You’re to be kept and put to use."

 

Q sneered, hissing like a bristling cat, as he tried to thrash as much as he could, no matter how feeble it was with his head pinned down along with both his arms and legs restrained. Already, he was guessing what sort of 'use' the bastard was talking about. God, he should've died. It would have been so much easier for them both. It really would have.

 

Holderbaum left him there. Laying on the floor, legs raised, the man left him there for nearly three days.

 

It was after a day that the screams stopped. The sound of the drill did not, and on day three, Holderbaum stalked back into Q's cell.

 

*

 

It was the longest period of time in his short existence, and probably one the most difficult, aside from trying not to think about how the lower half of his body was gradually being stripped away of its living senses, was not allowing his mind to consume him—the haunting, niggling dark thoughts that ate away at him like termites drilling through walls and woods and everything that they could destroy and nestle in to expand their hive.

 

James's screams grew loud then faint, hoarse as time went by, and Christ, he couldn't hold back the tears that burnt like coals inside his eye sockets. But Q didn't beg... no... There was no mercy in this. Absolutely not. And no matter what they promised him now, they could take it all back in a flash. You didn't make deals with cold-blooded terrorists like these, no. They'd just it against you...

 

But Q honestly couldn't quite tell anymore, which was worse: hearing or not hearing James's screams... because the grinding wails of the drill were still there. And by the time the heart-wrenching cries had ceased, his tears had relatively dried, and the exhausted mumbling on his own part had withered, he felt like he was in a sort of delirium...

 

Even so... there was no escape in that floating space. None. He thought to himself, counting numbers that he always forgot halfway through and remembering the feel of James's breath on his skin and the warmth that had once pressed so securely against him... It was horrible... Everything was his fault.

 

_Don't. Don't say that. Don't think about it like that._

 

His eyes fluttered to where the door opened, mind registering in that it was Holderbaum—the miserable fucker that was partially delivering him all this suffering.

 

Holderbaum slapped him hard. "Wakey wakey," he said and lifted Q up right by a fistful of hair. His hand grabbed the back of the chair... And then he was dragging him out into the hallway.

 

That did shock his system up a bit. "No need for the slap," he sneered. "Just seeing your Godawful face is enough to wake anyone up." He didn't quite feel that pain in his hair when the bastard yanked at it, but he did feel it when the blood started rushing back down to his lower limbs and bluish toes, and God, it hurt.

 

"Where are you taking me?!" he demanded, heart already sinking further and further than it already had, voice echoing in the enclosed hallway.

 

They went into the next room and the occupant on the chair looked... familiar.

 

James was naked, covered in rivulets of blood from multiple wounds. His head had been shaved bald—for the simple facts of humiliation—and his eyes were bloodshot and vague.

 

Q took in a shuddered breath, throat closing up and choking, feeling like this was almost an out of body experience, as he stared at the sight his lover had been reduced to before him.

 

"J-James," he breathed, not finding his voice for a moment there. "James! James!!" Every instincts were telling him to run to him, but moving wasn't an option right then, and God, hatred and fear were oozing from every pore on his skin.

 

The door was locked and they were left alone. Bond’s chest rose and fell slowly, but he just stared ahead.

 

Q whimpered, shivers that had nothing to do with the chill in the air were wracking through his body, fear spiking impossibly high. "James... please..." he begged. "Look at me, James. Please!"

 

There was nothing... Silence but behind his eyes, it looked as if he was still screaming. Trapped in a world of pain and despair...

 

Something clenched painfully in his stomach as he stared at James, sharp flares of stifled emotions clawing at his insides. "JAMES!!!" he roared, mustering all the energies that he possessed right then. " _LOOK AT ME!_ "

 

He jerked as if slapped... But blinked slowly. His gaze was unfocused and slid over Q, as if not knowing where he was.

 

Q's chest heaved, spots dancing in the edges of his vision. "Focus on me, James." His voice was thick with the barest of tremors. "Focus on me. Me."

 

His gaze came to Q and he stared at him... through him, blinking and trying to focus.

 

Q felt like crying as he tried to breathe through the lump in his throat. That blank, vacant look was tearing scars into his mind, but he was trying to keep from shaking. "T-that's right," he cooed shakily. "Focus on me. Can you understand me perfectly, James?" He needed to check on that first. "Blink twice for yes."

 

"I understand you," the voice was a horse, broken thing. Damaged from screams.

 

Q breathed a sigh of relief. "Good... Very good..." He pursed his lips, swallowing. "Do you... Can you recognize me?" He asked, heart pounding loudly. "Please?"

 

His eyes slid over Q. He didn't answer him for a long moment. "You’re... familiar..."

 

Q waited on baited breaths and felt something fracture inside of him as the word 'familiar' shrouded over his senses and burrowed into his skin, flesh, bones, and marrows like a parasite. Perhaps it was selfish of him to ask about himself first like that, but he... he couldn't quite stop himself. He simply just couldn't.

 

"Oh..." he breathed, hot tears swimming in his eyes, and swallowed thickly, the muscles in his body shivering involuntarily. "I'm Q. And I'm here to help you. All right?" He tried to smile, hoping it didn't coming looking too lopsided. "Do you... remember who you are?" Yes, this was an important one. He thought to himself. This was _the_ important one.

 

"James... My name is James... I work for the British secret se-" he looked up at Q, his eyes narrowed. "W-William..." His face sunk into relief. "Husband... Not husband... Mine."

 

Q spluttered, wide-eyed, "Y-yes. Yes," gratefulness spilling over along with his tears, as he nodded quickly, desperately, stomaching twisting and burning like there were hot coals stowing inside it. God, he wanted to go to James to badly. "You're James. James Bond. And I'm... William..." He bit his lip harshly to calm his ruffled breathing, trying to stop the way how his chest was heaving up and down for every pained inhalation. His ribs still hurt for a bit, but that dulled in comparison to this. "Yours," he whimpered.

 

James nodded as if they was the simplest of fact. "Mine. We have got to get out of here," he said and his face screwed up in concentration as he started to wiggle.

 

Q looked from the restraints on himself to the ones James had and knew that they weren't getting out of there, not right then. "I know," he breathed. "But we can't right now." He wasn't being pessimistic, no. They just couldn't. Not with the state James was in. "So you have to listen to me." He ground the words out forcefully. "No matter what they do... to you or to me... never forget yourself, okay? Never forget who you are, James.."

 

"Q..." There was a warning in his tone. "Stop talking like that..."

 

Q shook his head, trying to smile. "We have to consider the options, James." He was speaking as logically as he could, and swallowed, taking in a sharp breath. "Don't. Forget. Who. _You_. Are. No matter what." He paused, letting out a shaky, airy laugh. "And I love you. Okay?"

 

"You won't leave me, because we are getting out," he said quietly. "Who have you seen? Where? How many bad guys?"

 

Q pursed his lips, swallowing thickly. "I don't know where we are..." he began quietly. "And I have only seen Holderbalm." He shivered. "And according to him, Oberhauser is here."

 

Bond visibly flinched at that word... and started to rock, twisting harshly... trying to break free.

 

Q’s eyes widened at the sudden, violent response. "James." He lurched in his chair but couldn't break free from the bonds. "James, stop it! Stop it, you're hurting yourself!"

 

"I'm going to get you out of here," he muttered. "Shush... I need to concentrate..."

 

Q's lower lip was quivering only for a bit as he bit on it to stop the words at the tip of his tongue from spilling forth. They weren't going to get out. They just couldn't... especially when there were all those clasps on James's wrists, ankles, and around his head, pinning him down to that horrible, nauseating chair; especially when they didn't know what those sick bastards had done to him, his brain, with all that drilling for the last three days.

 

He heaved a dry, shaky sob, dread and pain and fear coiling in the pit of his stomach like a poisonous snake. "Don't hurt yourself anymore over me, James," he whispered, his toes curling and fingers flexing. "Please..."

 

Even so, as requested, Q kept his silence after that, his eyes trained on James, but his mind was loud, way too loud. This was all merely a game on Oberhauser's part, trying to see if they would and could manage to escape or not because they couldn't possibly just leave him and James in here unattended like this. A sick, twisted game of cornering two human beings and watching to see what they'd do.

 

But the sheer concentration that he could see crossing James's expression silenced his words as he chewed on the insides of his cheeks, concentrating on the words the man was saying. And no, actually, he had never quite seen any monks who could fold himself into a cardboard box... he thought to himself, holding his breath when his ears picked out a small, distant sound of something popping in the background other than his own racing pulse.

 

James said nothing and his breath slowed. He blocked out pain... blocked out fatigue. He blocked the worrying muddle of thoughts and focused in on memory. A single, wonderful memory... him and William making love, tangled together—when was that...?

 

His voice took on a distant tone. "Do you know why people practice yoga?" He asked quietly. "To achieve control over their bodies... You ever see one of those monks who can fold himself into a cardboard box...?" His thumb was wriggling... And jerked. There was a subtle pop as he dislocated it, and started to wiggle his hand through... Slowly.

 

Q stared, eyes a little wide, when James began to wriggle his hand free, stomach clenching.

 

Another pop of bone leaving joint, and Bond barely grimaced. Whether it was training or sheer bloody mindedness... But Bond slipped his hand free. He flicked his wrist and bones popped and that was when pain covered his face—just for a moment—before he ripped the mental away from his head and then his other wrist before going for his ankles. He dropped into a crouch, a savage, horror of a man and approached Q.

 

Q watched in horror, barely breathing as he was, as he realized what that sound he had just heard was when another one, exactly the same, came following it as well—James was dislocating his thumbs to free his hands, and Q honestly had no idea how the man was actually doing it at all like that. He took in a sharp intake of breath when James faltered for a bit, face contorting in pain, just as he tried removing the head brace, having half a mind of telling the man to stop but kept his mouth shut.

 

It wasn't until James finally freed himself entirely and began approaching him that Q saw on a whole what those monsters had done to him. His throat closed off with impossible pain as he attempted in vain to reign in his wild emotions, wanting nothing more than to be transported away from here and hide in some secluded place where no-one would ever be able to find them or harm his lover again.

 

"James," he whispered, a jagged, chipping sound as he leaned forward as much as he could when the man finally got close enough.

 

"Later, baby..." He said and pressed a bloody kiss to his forehead as he undid Q slowly. "We need a rescue... I have very little left in me..." He said as he freed Q. "Are you hurt?" There was no point asking James that question.

 

The smell of James's blood and sweat was sending him in a frantic haze, but he swallowed the panic down and shook his head. "I'm okay," he replied quickly even as the yellowing bruise on the side of his face where Holderbaum had stepped on his head said otherwise. He pressed a kiss to James's forehead, too, before standing up shakily and going for the laptop that had been left there on a table to his right. There was no other alternative now to be honest, his confidence shot down to the grave or not, and he would get them out no matter what. Quickly, he got to work, typing as fast as he could.

 

James, meanwhile, moved to the door and slipped behind it, waiting to surprise the first person who crashed into the room.

 

Q worked intently and most efficiently as he could. He bypassed the first security measure, disabling the trigger alarm there, and moved on to the second one, eyes only flickering briefly over to where James was just to check on the man. His fingers were hurting again, but he clenched his jaws and powered through it; he would not let all these efforts go to waste.

 

Heart racing in his chest, he had troubles with the third one because it was a complex matrix with booby traps all around.

 

Q bit his lip when the inevitable came: the door finally burst in.


	25. Chapter 25

Bond lunged and snatched the gun. He dragged it back to him, and kicked the man where it hurt before dragging him inside and crushing his throat. "How long?" Bond snarled at Q as he started dragging off the man's shoes.

 

He couldn't escape in the nude.

 

Q didn't turn at the commotion, his mind zooming on one thing and one thing alone. "Forty-five seconds," he snapped back, eyes scanning the running codes before the screen, typing furiously.

 

Another two guards came running toward the door.

 

James lifted the gun and fired at the first one... The second one got through and him and James crashed back into the machines.

 

<Enter.>

 

Q scrambled from the stool he had been restlessly occupying, picking it up and smashing it once against the back of the attacker's head. And another when it didn't seem like the fucker was actually letting go. The moment he relented his hold on James, Q grabbed one of the wires closest to him and wrapped it around the henchman's throat in consecutive loops, yanking him back and away from James as much as he could, his teeth gritting together.

 

James shuddered for a moment and it looked for one horrifying second like he could drop... But he didn't. He regained himself but didn't look good. "Rescue?" He asked quietly as his head screamed.

 

Q coldly tightened his hold, feeling the struggles of a man taking his last feeble breaths resonating against his coiling muscles as he took said life away inch by inch. "Should be coming," he replied, scanning James pasty pale skin and bloodshot eyes with concerns flaring red flags, as the body finally went limp, and Q let it fall to the floor in a loud thud.

 

There was a pulsing ache in his hands, but he didn't care and rushed over to James instead.

 

"Can you manage?" he whispered, because no other questions seemed appropriate right then.

 

"Tsk. Tsk." A voice rang, and Q froze. "Honestly, you two. And we were sparing you some good quality time together, too." Holderbaum stood there, smug, with a back up team behind him, guns on the ready pointing at them.

 

"You can't shoot me," James said quietly as he unceremoniously shoved Q behind him. "You have orders to keep me alive..."

 

Holderbaum shrugged, face looking the perfect mask of nonchalance. "Doesn't mean we can't shoot you enough times to keep you down, Mr. Bond." He smiled, watching as Q quickly regained his composure after the shove and remained close to Bond.

 

It was obvious from the intent look in their eyes that they were trying to calculate their way out of this, but really, there was only one entrance and exit, and Holderbaum and his team were already blocking it. "How sweet," he chuckled. "The way how you two are so protective of each other... After Madeleine Swann as well. Who would have thought. Right, Q? That this man would fall for you of all people?"

 

"Ah, but if I die then Oberhauser puts you in the chair," the gun shifted and went to his own temple. "Ignore him, Q, we are getting out of here..."

 

Q stiffened, heart beating too loudly and pulse racing too fast the moment he saw James press the cold, black barrel of the gun to his own temple. Nervous, agitated heat spread from the nape of his neck.

 

Holderbaum didn't move, but there was a cold edge to his smile that gleamed as sharp and lethal as the knives that he adored so much. "Me in the chair or not. The moment you pull that trigger, Mr. Bond, _he_ —" He nodded over to Q. "—is _ours_ for the taking."

 

James swayed suddenly, and staggered forwards, as if he was pitching to faint... And barred into the scrum of them. Distraction techniques worked well, especially when no one realised that he had dropped the gun at Q's feet.

 

Q saw the and heard the gun clattered to the floor, and immediately scrambled for it, disregarding every instinct in his body that was telling him to try and catch James. The lot of them sidestepped James's falling form entirely, which was the expected cold-hearted yet good thing, and Q was already shooting, taking down as many of them as he could without wasting too much time, including Holderbaum, the moment the entire view was cleared of James.

 

Bond turned, and went for the first man, hand darting out. Adrenaline and cortisol rushed through his systems like a drug, and he looked like God of war, the way that he moved, the way they he danced with the men that he killed, most with his bare hands.

 

Q immediately followed right after, directing the gun at the other guards that James wasn't taking down, eyes narrowed and focused as he counted the rounds in his head and calculated the aiming angle while watching out for his lover as well... because he knew James wasn't completely acting when he faked his exhaustion and fell down to the floor.

 

Eventually, several of the guards turned and fled, and James lunged, grabbing Holderbaum and took him to the floor. There was a twist and the man screamed as James broke the bones in his foot. He stood up and went to Q.

 

"He's yours," he whispered.

 

Q stared at James as his gaze averted to the seething body of Holderbaum on the floor, and he nodded wordlessly. Stepping closer, he lifted the gun and pointed it straight at the middle of Holderbaum's forehead.

 

"This won't be the end," Holderbaum was hissing, a manic laugh in his voice. "There'll always be more people like me. _Always_. And I told you we'd destroy you. You and your sanity, Quartermaster!"

 

The gun was heavy in his hands when Q whispered, "And I told you I'd make sure you go to hell." And he pulled the trigger. Holderbaum's body gave one last, not quite satisfying jerk before going limp on the floor, a bullet in his head.

 

He swallowed and shakily lowered the weapon, turning away quickly. "Let's go," he breathed to James.

 

James was leaning against the wall. His legs shook violently and he threatened to go down. Elsewhere, they could hear the chattering of guns. Their rescue had evidently arrived.

 

"Q..." He said quietly. "Go."

 

Q shook his head urgently, running over to gather James's shaking frames into his arms. "No," he said, his arms tightening. "I'm not going anywhere. You hear me?"

 

James looked up at him and his eyes rolled... But he managed to get up, shaking. "May have to borrow your balance... You need to do the shooting..." He murmured, eyes threatening to close.

 

Q nodded, shifting their bodies and struggling with the weight a little, but he managed it fast enough, never letting go of James. "Stay with me," he demanded with more force than he actually felt. "Keep your eyes open, James."

 

"Of course I'm staying with you..." He muttered as he hobbled. "Got to... get a ring on your finger before you come to your senses..."

 

Q let out a small, breathless laugh as he steered them forward when James chose to interpret the request in such a way. But more than anything, his throat constricted upon hearing the last statement. "No worries," he replied, tightening his grips. "Consider my senses permanently on leave."

 

He chuckled softly and closed his eyes, and his eyes rolled. "I just asked you to marry me..."

 

Q kept a close eye on James, his breath hitching at the waning strength he could visibly see—the man was barely holding on as it was. "Yeah, you just did," he confirmed it with a lopsided grin. "And I just agreed to it..." He swallowed thickly, soldiering on, adapting a tone he hoped was mildly teasing. "So don't dare leave me bereft, okay? I can hold a grudge for a very long time, you know."

 

"Bond! Q!" The voice was familiar, coming around the corner. Eve stood there, along with the rescue team.

 

And James crumbled.

 

Q's footing nearly faltered when the weight of the man crashed down entirely upon him, but he managed to back them to the closest wall and slide down to the floor against it. He barely paid attention to the calls and fast approaching footsteps. "James." He turned to his lover, urgent and desperate, one hand holding his cheek while the other shook his shoulder. "James!"

 

The vacant look those bloodshot blue eyes had had when he first entered the room flashed back to the forefront of his mind, and Q was honestly trying hard not to outright panic.

 

"James, stay with me," he pleaded. "Please!"

 

Eve was by his side, pulling him back by an arm around his waist and hauling. Medical teams moved in, and another team secured the area. "They need to stabilize him," Eve said quietly.

 

His arms still tried to reach for James even as he was being hauled back, not registering it until Eve's words finally penetrated into his ear through the ringing inside his head. Q turned to her, mouth open in a partial splutter of breath and eyes wide in sheer shock and a sheen of hot, salty tears that she had never seen before on the Quartermaster. Everything seemed too loud and bright right then.

 

He turned back to James, watching as the men in white swarmed him, blocking him from Q's sight. "Keep him awake," he said, to anybody who might listen right then. "They've been drilling his head for three days now... please..." He finally frayed. "Keep him awake."

 

James wasn't awake. He wasn't awake, wasn't aware of what was going on around them. Eve rocked him gently, and stroked his hair. "He needs sleep... Rest... Let him rest and we will get him back to London... The best people are waiting..."

 

"The best people?" he repeated quietly, perhaps more poisonous than he had intended it to be. But he wasn't in his right mind; hadn't been for quite sometime already. "With one or two from Spectre in the team, you mean?" He struggled to get away from her hold, paranoia and fear and everything else eating away at him. "Slipping in inconspicuously and legally like C?"

 

"No, in Guy’s and St Thomas's hospital in London." One of them nodded at Eve and James was lifted onto a stretcher.

 

"And Max Denbigh isn't initially a supposed high-ranking, trustworthy MI6 official," he deadpanned wryly, shakily following the men as they took James away.

 

"Yes, well since we last spoke, Mr. Denbigh has mysteriously vanished," Eve said tartly and grinned. "004 was the last person to see him alive, unfortunately, and you can imagine she took this rather personally."

 

"You can't seriously think he's the only one they managed to plant into the system." His footsteps were slipping even as he kept his eyes fixed on James, dehydration, a lack of food, and exhaustion setting in now that the adrenaline was bleeding away from his system.

 

"Of course not," she said and put an arm around Q as a helicopter landed. "But right now, we can only do so much," she said and gestured him in behind Bond.

 

The sound of the whirring engine alone even before the sight of the helicopter landing right before them already had a wave of nausea washing up his throat. Q swallowed it down though as he climbed into it with all the courage he had left to muster up right then, and immediately held on to James's hand when the medics finally settled down, disregarding everything else for the time being.

 

James stirred and opened his eyes. His gaze found Q... He smiled and slowly slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

Q took in a sharp intake of breath, blearily returning a smile and pressing a kiss to the man's knuckles, and watched those blue eyes fall shut again, his insides twisting violently as he slumped against the bed they had placed James on, trembling with every breath he took.

 

And so they left French air space and went into British, and landed at the hospital. Bond was taken down to triage.

 

*

 

A week later, they were both in hospital still, and James would be in there for a time... But Q hadn't been told anything.

 

He hadn't allowed them to operate on his fingers, not yet. He wanted to be there for James... But that was the thing. They had separated them, there wasn’t any news yet whatsoever, and just this alone was driving him up the wall. That, and people kept telling him that he needed psychiatric counseling, Q supposed. Honestly, in his opinion, they were the ones that needed mental aid for expecting that he would be... somehow _okay_ with being left in the dark about his lover's condition.

 

"How is he?" he asked Moneypenny for what must have been the umpteenth time. "Tell. Me."

 

"He is fine, Q. Just healing," she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

 

Fuck. Q rubbed his face and pinched his nose. "Then why don't you let me _see_ him?" he ground out between gritted teeth, whipping his head over to stare at her... It took a while, but eventually, he deflated, even if just for a little bit. "We've been going at this for too long already, and you know that, Eve..." he continued quietly. "I won't stop until you let me see him, and I know you've gotten better things to do than this." He was tired, exhausted, drained, and he really, truly just wanted to see James for real and assess his conditions.

 

She sighed. "If I take you to see him, will you let them operate on your fingers?"

 

Eve already had his undivided attention at that. "More than this once?" he asked hopefully. "I won't be much of a bother. Just... just let me see him on a daily basis... please?"

 

She sighed and nodded. "Okay. Now?"

 

Q nodded, too, urgently. Wouldn't it have been better if they had just done this earlier on? "Yes. Of course. Can we go now?"

 

Eve nodded and they went. Through the hospital, and up a flight of stairs into the ICU, and Eve paused. "Okay... I need to warn you... It's not good..."

 

Q turned to look at her, his face neutral as he fixed his glasses. "I've already figured that out for myself the first time you refused to let me see him." His voice was quiet, grim, but he was determined all the same.

 

Eve nodded and stepped back. She waved Q through and there he was. James was in the first bed, bandages around his skull and a tube down his throat.

 

Q couldn't say he had expected any better. Even so, his eyelashes fluttered fleetingly, and his voice quavered just a bit as he turned to her and said, "What do the doctors say about his condition?"

 

"Severe, but stable," she said softly. "They think that he should heal, barring no complications…  but there is brain damage."

 

"Physically," he echoed the word, picking it out almost like a grain of sand among otherwise perfectly white, soft rice. Q nodded. "Thank you." With that whisper, he entered the room with slow, measured steps. James looked so pale and vulnerable there on that bed, hooked to all those monitors, that it almost seemed unreal. Almost.

 

The beeping of the machines was deafening as he finally made it to the bed, fingers curling around the support frame to keep himself steady and anchor him down at the same time.

 

James looked so different from the memory of that sun-kissed, healthy, strong man who had emerged from the sparkling, emerald waters of Bali all those weeks ago that the image slipped in and out of focus like a mirage from a life long past.

 

"Hey, love," he greeted softly, leaning down to brush a faint kiss over James's bandaged forehead before pulling away. "They thought they could keep me away." He took the man's hand in his own, cradling it between his own. "How silly." Q blinked rapidly, chuckling a weak, wet laugh.

 

The fingers squeezed back gently, but there was no other movement. On some level, he knew that Q was there.

 

Q smiled faintly, a spark of hope lighting itself up, as he quickly and quietly brought a chair over and sat down, already oblivious to anything and anyone else.

 

Eve left them together for a time before she came back to take him back.

 

"Are you sure he's warm enough?" he asked in a daze even as she led him away, head kept on turning back to look at James. "The blankets are a little thin." His hand went up, as though reaching out for his lover. "He doesn't like sleeping alone, you know." Q was partially aware that he was starting to ramble to himself, like someone who had been stuck inside his own head for too long and couldn't quite tell the difference anymore, but he didn't care right then. "He has nightmares. Violent ones..."

 

His lips twitching, molding around soundless words. "Can I stay during the night?"

 

"You want to stay here with him?" Eve asked quietly.

 

"Yes," was the immediate reply, his eyes a little wider than usual as he looked at her, finally. "Can I?"

 

"Get your operation done tomorrow and then I will get it done. Understand?"

 

Q nodded with a chapped, grateful smile, his face brightening for the first time. "Understood. Thank you." He slid from her hold, quickly and almost slippery, using his thin frame to full advantage, and striding silently back to over to James.

 

"I'll be back soon, okay, James?" he whispered again for probably the third or fourth time, as reassuringly as he could. "Just... bear it with me for one more night, and I'll be here with you." He kissed the man again, lips lingering a bit longer this time. "I love you."

 

It took a lot of will to tear himself away one more time, but he returned to the door with his composure on for the most part and left with Eve.

 

"After what you described," Eve said slowly. "You know there could be a good chance that he is brain damaged? He may have no idea who you are," she said quietly.

 

_"You’re... familiar."_

 

"I'm very well aware of that," Q muttered in reply. The vague vacancy and non-recognition of those eye had been haunting his mind for the better part of the week. "But that isn't the main concern..." he continued quietly. "As long as he wakes up."

 

"You’re in love with him," she said softly, and she did not make it sound like a good thing.

 

Q stopped in his track suddenly, his mind light and hazy as he turned to look at Eve, focusing his scattered attention onto her for a long moment. "He asked me to marry him, and I said yes, Eve." Yes, he did love James, but it was so much more than that at the same time as well. So much more special... like how James had said it himself. And he smiled at her, utterly sad and forlorn.

 

Eve looked at him, clearly surprised but it was obvious that she thought very little of this idea. She did not think much of it at all.

 

Unfortunately for them both, the hospital absolutely refused to allow Q to stay... So Eve hadhim transferred to MI6 medical and hired the best doctor in the continent to look after James.

 

He was getting no better.

 

There was no change at all.

 

*

 

Q kept a low profile at MI6, mostly to avoid the attention and prying eyes of the employees there, but also because last time he checked, MI6 had been infiltrated by Spectre. _Paranoid_ , he could hear James whisper into his ear, and honestly, he didn't know whether to smile or cry over that.

 

As promised, he had had surgery done on his broken fingers, and they were still healing and aching under the bandages. The rest of them should have a relatively full recovery in a few months, according to the doctors. Therefore, for now, he was playing with yet another laptop, tweaking and fixing and upgrading, at the small table next to James's bed that he had managed to wiggle in out of sheer stubbornness and a refusal to listen to the staff, largely avoiding Q-Branch because that'd just upset him mentally (and he really hated it when that happened).

 

At a certain point, Eve made him go home—for shower, eat, sleep, and all those useless things—and he came back with several books, a few other small items, and a bag of clothes... packed just enough so he wouldn't really have to leave the vicinity too often.

 

Q felt bad for Twist, who had yet to learn that her owner was actually back in the country, but he couldn't bring himself to bring the cat home and leave her there while he himself holed up here next to James. That would be cruel to them all, so it was better if Twist stayed with Sarah for some more time.

 

And so, curled up on the uncomfortable chair of this place, Q read to James from the books that he had brought and played soft music when no one was there because they said these things sometimes helped... and because he realized he didn't actually know what James liked—from his preferred readings to music type and even food... It was a dampening thought, and a damn depressing one at that, too, and Q had swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat whenever such thoughts managed to emerge to the forefront of his consciousness.

 

Honestly, it made him feel like the absolute worst lover in the world. But that didn't quite matter right then, though, did it?

 

Therefore, Q gradually developed this habit of carrying on one-sided conversations with James as he sat there and played with his laptop and did the exercises the doctors had assigned him for his hands, which, in his opinion, weren't getting any better themselves.

 

"You look lovely in this, you know?" he was saying into silence once more, showing James yet again those short videos that he had shot on their faux honeymoon. "But I think I already told you this enough times before. No need to stroke your ego more now, yes?" He smiled absentmindedly to himself, kissing that cool cheek, keenly watching James's movements on the screen, the way how the man carried himself, how he laughed and talked, the expressions on his face... Everything.

 

No matter what, no matter the current results, no matter how this would turn out in the end... he wouldn't give up. Even if there were no changes in James's condition so far.

 

"Yes, Eve?" he whispered, pausing the video and straightening up. He knew she didn't support the idea of him agreeing to James's marriage proposal, if not outright disregarding that, and in Q's opinion, he really didn't have to explain any of this to anyone who wouldn't give it a chance. Not that he planned on explaining it to anyone, to be honest.

 

Eve looked exhausted. After C had vanished and in his wake, Nine Eyes had fallen apart, Mallory bad temporally been put in charge, Eve as his assistant... They were the ones that had gotten James into this small, private hospital that MI6 just happened to use.

 

Q was watching Eve very, very intently, watching the minute flutters of emotions on her face, the exhaustion that seemed to drain at her core. Something was wrong, he could taste it in the air, and his suspicions had been confirmed when James finally came up. There were only so many reasons why she would be down here at all with such an expression on her face.

 

"Q... I've been sent down to talk to you about James," she sat opposite him. "The doctors are picking up very little brain activity... There's a lot of damage. Since you escaped, he has had several large bleeds on the brain..." Eve looked at him and reached for Q's hand.

 

His eyes flickered to the hand she had just placed over his, not liking the direction in which this exchange was taking.

 

"The doctors want to take him off life support, Q. They don’t think that he can recover... they took him off the drugs to keep him in a coma, and there is no change… they think he is being kept alive by the machines only... M has agreed... So that if he can't wake up, then he gets to slip away peacefully."

 

The moment those words fell from her lips, Q snatched his hand away as if touched by hot coals. "What are you saying?" he whispered, wide-eyed and disbelieving. "What are you saying?!" Q repeated, louder and more forcefully this time, partially mindful of James and the overall hospital room. "How could you say that when he's still _here_?!" His hand waved over James's motionless form, shaking and having a hard time controlling his rising temper.

 

_Breathe. Breathe._

 

"Why? Why are you even talking about this? What's the problem here? Is it about resources? Money?" His pupils contracted, irises fluttering. "I can go back to work. I can give you money if that's the case."

 

"William," Eve said gently. "Listen to us. Try and understand us," she said quietly. "Is it fair to force someone to be alive when they are trying to go? He has been injured. Badly. The chances of him making any kind of recovery are slipping away every day… Sometimes..." Eve looked like she had swallowed something vile. "We need to make a shity call. Would James want to be kept going? Surely he deserves to have some sort of dignity?”

 

She stood up. "We will give you a few minutes to say goodbye."

 

"How would you know whether they are trying to go or not?! He can't bloody well speak, can he?" He snarled, despising the hot tears that were pooling in his vision. "What if he's still in there, trying to wake himself up, too, but couldn't just yet?!" Q was livid, spite and anger and fear and helplessness colliding and crashing against one another.

 

_"We will give you a few minutes to say goodbye."_

 

It was the finality in those words that scared him because people somewhere, who didn't fucking know James, were sitting in their offices and calling the shot sitting, regardless of his opinions.

 

He snatched for her hand. "E-Eve," he gasped, lips quivering. "Eve..." Q shook his head rapidly, the droplets sliding from his eyes. "Please, you can't do this. You can't." He was choking, tripping on his own words. "Give us some more time, please? It's just been a few weeks." His hold tightened around her wrist desperately. "Can I not have a say in this at all? Can't I? He's not just _your_ asset... he's..." Q squeezed his eyes shut, heaving a tremulous sob. "He's so much more than that... and you... you have no rights making his decisions for him."

 

Eve said nothing. There was nothing that she could say. So she just pulled the quivering young man into her arms and held him tightly to her chest. There were tears in her vision too, but she blinked them away and held onto him.

 

Q was on the verge of hyperventilating and only allowed himself to lean against Eve for a short moment before pushing himself away, harshly rubbing at his face to wipe away the treacherous tears with gritted teeth. He took his position by James's bed, clutching to the man's rough, calloused, familiar, and caring hand and pressing a lingering kiss to James’s forehead, whispering quiet sweet nothings as he had always been doing since the start... like nothing was going to go wrong.

 

"I love you," he whispered on repeat, tears spilling still and he had no mind left to push them away. "Always... I won't let go of you, like we have promised one another..." He swallowed thickly. "Just don't let go of me either, James. Please."

 

But everything was wrong. Wrong. _Wrong._

 

So wrong…

 

“Please… please… please don’t let me go...”

 

*

 

The time passed and soon the room began to fill. M was there, Tanner and several of the Double-Oh's, including a blond, rugged man with a scarred face who introduced himself as 006, who wasn’t as dead as everyone thought and had been deep undercover for a long time.

 

His normally laughing eyes seemed dead, broken as he looked at the unmoving figure on the bed.

 

Eventually everyone went silent as the doctor came in.

 

Mostly, Q ignored the presence of any other that had entered the room because if he acknowledged them, he would be acknowledging his brewing anger and acknowledging that this was happening at all.

 

So Q just stood still, trying to breathe through the lump in his throat, and holding on to James with clammy, cold hands, stomach coiling and lurching, lungs spluttering with breaths that weren't properly going down.

 

The only time he did look up was when M began his little, quiet speech supposedly in tribute to James, glaring as though he could lunge over and tear the man down with his bare hands. He had to bite the insides of his cheeks to stop the bitter, manic laugh from bubbling up his throat, lest they all think him insane.

 

_"You and your sanity, Quartermaster!"_

 

He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and tightened his hold.

 

"James Bond," M said quietly. "You’re a good man. Better than many I know. Rest easy and know that we will not stop until we have destroyed every last shred of Spectre." And M did something that no one expected. He saluted the man in the bed.

 

There was a ripple around the room, and everyone followed suit. James would never ever know the respect that his ability had gained.

 

Q’s heart pounded in a loud jittery, body entirely rigid like he was bracing for an enormous impact as the doctor approached the machine, spotting the white flutter of the man's coat out of the corner of his eye.

 

The doctor leant over and pressed the button on the machine, and slowly pulled the tube out from James’s mouth as he tugged the monitors off his chest.

 

Suddenly, there was a sound that rang inside his mind like a nail hammering into the lid of a coffin, and Q was seriously feeling quite lightheaded and unsteady on his feet...

 

The machine flat lined.

 

-

 

_End of Part One_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, aren’t we an evil pair! 
> 
> Is he dead? Is he not?
> 
> This story has become a slight obsession – and please tell my co-author that she needs to get her art up on Ao3!
> 
> Of course, this would not be possible without Jess, who sorts through what we write, and cries and shouts at us for cliff-hangers. 
> 
> Q will be back very soon in part two; Bind Me. 
> 
> -LauraRose


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